There, hanging among Ann Veronica’s more normal clothing, was a skimpy dress of red canvas, trimmed with cheap and tawdry braid, and short—it could hardly reach below the knee. “Who decorated the school like this?” She asked, peering up at the multicolored banners that hung everywhere. Stanley, consenting with dignity. ‘Knew you had the lad with you, and thought you were merely delayed. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. 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.
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