Miss Klegg raised the question of women’s suffrage, and he set himself to provoke a duel between her and Miss Garvice. So that Ann Veronica was not able to get the expert advice she certainly needed upon her spiritual state. It dropped sideways and fell with a bang to the table. If you can tell me nothing I don’t already know, so be it. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. Thames sat with Winifred's hand clasped in his own, and commenced a recital of his adventures, which may be briefly told. 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. She tried to appear as if she had never been questioned before. How can you protect me? Moreover, it is stealing that you have done, and therefore—’ ‘Don’t tell me you expect me to arrest myself again. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. I know exactly what I am doing. I like high tone for a flourish and stars and ideas; but I want my things. To be free of outward distraction, he shut his eyes and concentrated upon the scraps she had given him; and shortly, with his eyes still closed, he began to describe Ruth's island: the mountain at one end, with the ever-recurring scarves of mist drifting across the lava-scarred face; the jungle at the foot of it; the dazzling border of white sand; the sprawling store of the trader and the rotting wharf, sundrily patched with drift-wood; the native huts on the sandy floor of the palm groves; the scattered sandalwood and ebony; the screaming parakeets in the plantains; the fishing proas; the mission with its white washed walls and barren frontage; the lagoon, fringed with coco palms, now ruffled emerald, now placid sapphire. " "Why, what'll you do?" demanded the turnkey.
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