"They do. Boring after the first shock. But they enjoy it. It draws attention to 'em. Our grandmothers used to faint all over the lot, for the same purpose."
"Sometimes," Howard said, grinning, "when they get going about sex, I don't know where to look!"
"Look at them. That's what they want. And as most of 'em don't know what they're talking about, you needn't be uncomfortable. When they orate on Man's injustice to Woman—capital M and capital W—I get a little weary."
"I'm with 'em, there!" Maitland said.
The older man gave a grunt of impatience: "It isn't men who are unfair to women; it's Nature. But I don't see what can be done about it. Even the woman's vote won't be very successful in bucking Nature."
"I don't agree with you! Nature is perfectly impartial. Brain has no sex!"
"Nature impartial?" Leighton repeated, grimly; "Maitland, when the time comes for you to sit outside your wife's room, and wait for your first-born, you will not call Nature impartial. Theories are all very pretty, but just try waiting outside that door—" his face twitched; and Howard, remembering vaguely that Mrs. Leighton had been an invalid since the birth of their only child, changed the subject:
"Miss Payton's just sent me a cartload of suffrage literature; came on the tug yesterday."
"Suffragist?—you, I mean?"