'Oh, direct enough!' His tone so little satisfied the half-maternal pride of the other woman that she was almost prepared for the slighting accent in which he presently asked, 'Is this the sort of thing that's supposed to convert people to a great constitutional change?'
'It isn't our women would get the vote,' a workman called out. 'It's the rich women.'
'Is it only the rich men who have the vote?' demanded Ernestine. 'You know it isn't. We are fighting to get the franchise on precisely the same terms as men.'
For several moments the wrangle went on.
'Would wives have a vote?'
She showed how that could be made a matter of adjustment. She quoted the lodger franchise and the latch-key decision.
Vida kept glancing at Borrodaile. As still he made no sign, 'Of course,' the lady whispered across the back of the bench, 'of course, you think she's an abomination, but——?' she paused for a handsome disavowal. Borrodaile looked at the eager face—Vida's, for Miss Blunt's was calm as a May morning. As he did not instantly speak, 'But you can't deny she's got extremely good wits.'
He seemed to relent before such persuasiveness. 'She's got a delicious little face,' he admitted, thinking to say the most.
'Oh, her face! That's scarcely the point.'