"Is she returned!" "Y—e—s, Sir Rowland," stammered Charcam. “Either I want to shout,” said Mr. One of the sampans was hailed, and a ropeladder was lowered. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. He hated himself a little for it. 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. They were familiar but more massive. Forthwith he presented his card.
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