“Was she very eloquent on the rights of women?”
“What! you have heard her on that subject?”
“I have rarely heard her on any other, though she is the best and perhaps the cleverest friend I have at Paris; but that may be my fault, for I like to start it. It is a relief to the languid small-talk of society to listen to any one thoroughly in earnest upon turning the world topsy-turvy.”
“Do you suppose poor Mrs. Morley would seek to do that if she had her rights?” asked Isaura, with her musical laugh.
“Not a doubt of it; but perhaps you share her opinions.”
“I scarcely know what her opinions are, but—”
“Yes?—but—”
“There is a—what shall I call it?—a persuasion, a sentiment, out of which the opinions probably spring, that I do share.”
“Indeed? a persuasion, a sentiment, for instance, that a woman should have votes in the choice of legislators, and, I presume, in the task of legislation?”
“No, that is not what I mean. Still, that is an opinion, right or wrong, which grows out of the sentiment I speak of.”