‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. I’ve got no feminine class feeling. I tell you—never mind the bill. Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. And so Winifred understood him. " "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. Yet there was nothing for her to do. But what I do is based upon the fact that he is one of those individuals who are conscience-driven. " There was no danger in admitting this fact. 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. " "Come along," thundered Jonathan.
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