“I would rather rise to your height,” she said. “A man is always superior to a woman.”
“Oh, specious flattery!” exclaimed the Philosopher. “Are you not a Suffragette?”
Her eyes flashed.
“I? A Suffragette? How dare you suggest such a thing!”
The Philosopher linked his arm in hers again without being repulsed.
“Thank Heaven for all its mercies!” he ejaculated, piously. “You are neither a Suffragette nor a Nagger—you are—what are you?”
“Whatever you choose to call me,” she answered, laughingly.
“These things take time,” he said. “I will consider. You are—you are—let me see—a woman! That is unfortunate.”
“You think so!” And her eyes were full of dancing merriment.
“Yes—I think so. Unfortunate for yourself, I mean. Not unfortunate for me.”