Mrs. F. Worse. I've never been so moved in public. No tragedy, no great opera ever gripped an audience as the situation in the House did that night. There we all sat breathless—with everything more favourable to us than it had been within the memory of women. Another five minutes and the Resolution would have passed. Then ... all in a moment——
Lady John (to Mrs. Heriot). Listen—they're talking about the female hooligans.
Mrs. H. No, thank you! (Sits apart with the "Church Times.")
Mrs. F. (excitedly). All in a moment a horrible dingy little flag was poked through the grille of the Woman's Gallery—cries—insults—scuffling—the police—the ignominious turning out of the women—us as well as the—— Oh, I can't think of it without——
(Jumps up and walks to and fro.)
(Pauses.) Then the next morning! The people gloating. Our friends antagonised—people who were wavering—nearly won over—all thrown back—heart breaking! Even my husband! Freddy's been an angel about letting me take my share when I felt I must—but of course I've always known he doesn't really like it. It makes him shy. I'm sure it gives him a horrid twist inside when he sees my name among the speakers on the placards. But he's always been an angel about it before this. After the disgraceful scene he said, "It just shows how unfit women are for any sort of coherent thinking or concerted action."
Jean. To think that it should be women who've given the Cause the worst blow it ever had!
Mrs. F. The work of forty years destroyed in five minutes!
Jean. They must have felt pretty sick when they woke up the next morning—the Suffragettes.