“She can’t. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. ” “You and your father?” Lucy asked. She let her mind run into dreams of that cloud paradise of an altered world in which the Goopes and Minivers, the Fabians and reforming people believed. 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. . . But Melusine had overcome the weakness, calling the loss but a temporary setback. That would come later. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin.
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