There’s no logic in these things. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. Then it came to her with a shock, as an extraordinary oversight, that she could never tell Manning about Ramage—never. " "But what, in God's name, possessed you? You have already wrecked your own life and now you've wrecked hers. But your cracked skull is by no means a pleasing spectacle. "Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business—if you really are privy to the affair——" "We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short. 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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