"What are her views?"
"She calls them principles—but Aunt Mitty says, and I suppose she's right, that it would have been more ladylike to have borne her wrongs in silence instead of shrieking them aloud. For my part I think that, however loud she shrieked, she couldn't shriek as loud as the General has acted."
"I hope she isn't still in love with him?"
Her clear rippling laugh—the laugh of a free spirit—fluted over the broomsedge. "Can you imagine it? One might quite as well be in love with one's Thanksgiving turkey. No, she isn't in love with him now, but she's in love with the idea that she used to be, and that's almost as bad. I know it's her own past that makes her think all the time about the wrongs of women. She wants to have them vote, and make the laws, and have a voice in the government. Do you?"
"I never thought about it, but I'm pretty sure I shouldn't like my wife to go to the polls," I answered.
Again she laughed. "It's funny, isn't it?—that when you ask a man anything about women, he always begins to talk about his wife, even when he hasn't got one?"
"That's because he's always hoping to have one, I suppose."
"Do you want one very badly?" she taunted.
"Dreadfully—the one I want."
"A real dream lady in pink tarlatan?"