"Your son," answered the boy. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. But it was only six-thirty. It was there in the breast pocket, stiff and legal looking. "Our talking will not bother him. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. “John, did those roses cost a fortune?” “Like I’m going to tell you!” “Oh, John, they were so pretty, but they must have cost an arm and a leg, and you should be saving for college. “He dissembles,” he said. But a man’s opposition always inclined her to the suffrage side; she had a curious feeling of loyalty in seeing the more aggressive women through.
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