She did not learn the kind of looks she had been bestowing upon him at a convent. For a time Ann Veronica went on her way gauging the quality of sordid streets. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. “None, I thank you,” he answered. 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. The splendid voices sang on from phase to phase of love’s unfolding, the ship drove across the sea to the beating rhythm of the rowers. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now.
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