” She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows—a look of whimsical incredulity. ” She lingered over her tea, and glancing around, a sudden reflection on the change in her surroundings from the scene of her last night’s supper brought a faint, humorous smile to her lips. Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. She felt like Snow White in a secret forest house populated by dwarves. They buried him in Willesden churchyard after the robbery. 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. Traversing what remained of Wych Street at a rapid pace, and speeding along Drury Lane, the trio soon found themselves in Kendrick Yard. It was also cold, and dark, for there had been no time to light the lantern. They had not to tarry long. 58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. ” He signed his name and reflected. Spurlock slumped in his chair, weak and empty.
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