“David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. She found herself in a phase of violent reaction against the suffrage movement, a phase greatly promoted by one of those unreasonable objections people of Ann Veronica’s temperament take at times—to the girl in the next cell to her own. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. ‘The place was full of barbers and military men. One small wing lay at the north of the gate, where Giltspur Street Compter now stands; and the Press Yard, which was detached from the main building, was situated at the back of Phoenix Court.
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