The poison of her words was stealing into Penelope's soul and defiling it, yet I was powerless to restrain her.
“Listen to this, child, and remember it, women are the equals of men today in every line, and they're going to have their full share of the good things of life. They're going to have freedom, and that means the right to do as they please without asking the permission of any man. Women are going to have their own latch keys and their own bank accounts. They're going to cut off their hair and put pockets in their skirts, and have babies, if they feel like it, or not have them, if they don't feel like it. The greatest revolution the world has ever known is going on now, it's the revolution of women. Let the men open their eyes! How did women get the suffrage? Was it by praying for it? Was it by the power of love? Was it by the mercy of God? No! They got the suffrage by fighting for it, by going out and hustling for it, just the way men hustle for what they want. If women had depended on the power of God's love to give them the suffrage, they wouldn't have got it in a million years.”
Of course, those were not Roberta's exact words, but I am sure I have given the substance of them, and I cannot exaggerate the defiant bitterness of her tone. She was a powerful devil's advocate and I saw that wavering Penelope (if it still was Penelope) was deeply impressed by this false and wicked reasoning. She looked at me out of her wonderful eyes—unflinching, cruel, then the balance swung against me.
“I believe you are right, Roberta Vallis,” she spoke with raised forefinger and a show of judicial consideration. “It's a bold speech for a woman, I never heard the thing put that way before, but—I'm damned if I see what the answer is except—”
“Oh, Penelope!” I interrupted, trying in vain to reach her with my eyes.
“You shut up,” she answered spitefully. “I said I'm damned if I see what the answer is except your answer, Bobby, that women have always been fools and dupes—dupes of religious superstition invented by men for the benefit of men and never accepted by men.”
Roberta applauded this. “Bravo! little one! I'll tell that to Kendall Brown. Women have always been dupes of religious superstition invented by men for the benefit of men and never accepted by men! Go on! Tell us some more.”
And Penelope went on, flinging aside all restraint, while my heart sank.
“Take my own life. Look at it! I had an ignoble husband. Why didn't I leave him? Because I was loving, trusting. I thought I could save him. I said prayers for him. I asked God to strengthen him. And what was the result? The result was that Julian not only destroyed himself, but he destroyed what was best in me. Did God interfere? Did God give any manifestation of His infinite love? Not so that you could notice it.”
She paused with heaving bosom and then swept on in her mad discourse.