It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. Now, you and I can gossip at a gate, and Honi soit qui mal y pense. CHAPTER I. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites. “Do not look so uncomfortable, both of you,” she begged. In a moment they were in the street outside. She was still more stirred by the idea of the equal citizenship of men and women, by the realization that a big and growing organization of women were giving form and a generalized expression to just that personal pride, that aspiration for personal freedom and respect which had brought her to London; but when she heard Miss Miniver discoursing on the next step in the suffrage campaign, or read of women badgering Cabinet Ministers, padlocked to railings, or getting up in a public meeting to pipe out a demand for votes and be carried out kicking and screaming, her soul revolted.
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