’ The smile vanished. 23 She had always considered herself a simple wool maker’s daughter, but she began to realize that by marrying Gianfrancesco she had unwittingly gained entrance to a separate world. “The women are taking it up,” said Miss Miniver; “the women and the common people, all pressing forward, all roused. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. But Blueskin was not to be silenced. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. Martha had been more to her than that. You do not know him. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. A girl of fifteen or sixteen gave her a handbill that she regarded as a tract until she saw “Votes for Women” at the top. “And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast.
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