“That cannot happen!” She replied, feeling her world start to disintegrate underneath her feet. He was not able to recognize, as the doctor did, that she was only a natural woman. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. 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. With a drawn cutlass in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other, Blueskin rushed up stairs. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. ‘Yes, very rude,’ agreed the major. Wood. Apparently she was always doomed to weep when she talked to her father.
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