Her stifled misery had betrayed her. “Your mother was a Gypsy. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. I believe I am getting impudent. But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected. And afterward she saw a very much larger and more enthusiastic gathering, a meeting of the advanced section of the woman movement in Caxton Hall, where the same note of vast changes in progress sounded; and she went to a soiree of the Dress Reform Association and visited a Food Reform Exhibition, where imminent change was made even alarmingly visible. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. CHAPTER XVIII.
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