“Oh, quite,” said she. “I understand it now right enough. But I never knew Euclid made instruments for bands.”
Cruikshank tore up his piece of paper and flung it in the grate.
So you see, if she really knew, I’ve no doubt she’d return to question Euclid’s sanity once more. I feel inclined to question it myself, but then that is because I know he did not make instruments for bands. He only expressed himself—that was all.
XXIII
THE MYSTERY OF THE VOTE
XXIII
THE MYSTERY OF THE VOTE
I never knew how really splendid a possession was this of the vote until the last election. It is no wonder to me now that women throw dignity to the four winds of heaven, leaving it to chance and the grace of God whether it ever blows back to them again. It is no wonder to me that, for the moment, they can forget their glorious heritage in order to obtain this mysterious joy of recording their vote on a little slip of paper in the secrecy of the ballot-box.