She had gone to Cluar expecting resistance from the law and possible rough treatment at the hands of men; but the sight of fellow-women, losing all control, violently turning against their own sex, and the utter absence of that esprit de corps—so strong a feature of her college life—had astounded and revolted her to the depths of her soul.
She argued thus: If a movement that held as its primary cause the advancement of women produced not only a breach with the opposite sex but civil war among themselves, what would be the state of a government where the rival factions each held the vote and in which the fighting element despised the prevailing laws of the land?
Was Arson a slight weapon of offence? Or Assassination, risked by bombs?
It was Anarchy none the less, the offenders being mere women.
The present scheme of government might be open to various abuses, but at least it was a rule of order, upholding the laws it sought to enforce and the safety of the citizen.
In the long journey home, Jill had threshed out in this fashion the pros and cons of Woman's Suffrage with McTaggart; and needless to say the man had approved the conclusion she reached at last. She turned her back on the "Cause."
Now as he sat in the shadows thrown by the high trees over the grass, hearing the leaves, already falling, rustle faintly overhead, he smiled as he conjured up her face with its indignant wide gray eyes.
They had reached her home late that night, and, for the first time, McTaggart had realized that Mrs. Uniacke cared deeply for her child. The instincts of motherhood had risen supreme over her ardour for the Cause. She had cried aloud at the sight of Jill with her bruised arms and tattered clothes.
Bitterly, too, she had blamed Stephen for deserting the girl in the hour of danger.
She had placed her daughter in his care and the story, tersely told by McTaggart, of their meeting with that prudent person in the coffee-room of the Commercial Hotel, placidly eating an excellent lunch, had roused her genuine indignation.