He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. “Yes,” she said, “that is what we ought to do. Under her feet lay intricate mosaics, and each warm hall was festooned in tapestries. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. 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. Still, his conscience was partly satisfied. “Don’t be an ass, Ferringhall,” he said tersely.
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