Lucy stared at the girl for a long ten seconds, and then looked away. Saren Chen was a tall woman, thin and beautiful in a masculine way, Germanic. Her husband was prouder of her every day. Those grand designs in the dome of St. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. 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. Then, in a whisper: "But there's no reason why the whole hotel should. But between us, we'll have him writing books some day.
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