She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. But there were two places of punishment which merit some notice from their peculiarity. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. Great sport, eh? To haul them back from the ragged edge. 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. “Looks like old times here, I see.
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