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. “No,” she said at last; “I’m a human being—not a timid female. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. " "Nonsense!" cried Wood; "while there's life there's hope. Her little white hand stole across the table. Once he chuckled aloud. '" "Slave?" echoed Jack. “But, dear, think! He is your father. Wood, with a message for Lady Trafford. She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners.
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