A certain irritation crept into his manner as he did so. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. The hope that had been suddenly kindled in the youth's bosom was as suddenly extinguished. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. Ramage,” she said, sharply, “I have to make it plain to you. A woman is supposed to know when a man is in love with her.
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