“There’s the emancipation of the working classes. That is the great sphere for men; and Everard cares no more for the working classes than I do.”
“Isn’t it enough to be free oneself?”
“You mean that he has task enough in striving to be an honourable man?”
“Perhaps. I hardly know what I meant.”
Miss Barfoot mused, and her face lighted up with a glad thought.
“You are right. It’s better to be a woman, in our day. With us is all the joy of advance, the glory of conquering. Men have only material progress to think about. But we—we are winning souls, propagating a new religion, purifying the earth!”
Rhoda nodded thrice.
“My cousin is a fine specimen of a man, after all, in body and mind. But what a poor, ineffectual creature compared with you, Rhoda! I don’t flatter you, dear. I tell you bluntly of your faults and extravagances. But I am proud of your magnificent independence, proud of your pride, dear, and of your stainless heart. Thank Heaven we are women!”
It was rare indeed for Miss Barfoot to be moved to rhapsody. Again Rhoda nodded, and then they laughed together, with joyous confidence in themselves and in their cause.