There’s no logic in these things. "Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. 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. Lucy cried out, “There is a baby in the crypt! She has taken an infant!” Sebastian struck her across the jaw, sending her flying backwards. And you shall have a share of the gold for yourself.
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