There was a pause, and then the front door slammed. I didn’t! I didn’t! After all—” For a time her mind ran on daintiness and its defensive restraints as though it was the one desirable thing. One day they were at tea in the laboratory and a discussion sprang up about the question of women’s suffrage. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively.
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