“For goodness’ sake don’t be coarse, Clare,” said Herbert.
“It’s Mrs. Atkinson Brown who is coarse,” said Clare. “And I am prepared for Mr. Atkinson Brown, who will say that it is horrible weather for this time of year, and that business has been the very devil since there has been a Radical Government, and that these outrageous women who are breaking windows ought to be whipped. Oh, I could tell you everything that everybody is going to say. I have heard it over and over again.”
“It does not seem to make much effect on you,” said Herbert. “Especially that part about breaking windows.”
Clare smiled.
“So you have guessed, have you?”
“I knew at once by the look on your face.”
“I thought you agreed with your mother that some Suffragette must have flung a stone from the outside.”
“I hid the truth from mother,” said Herbert. “She would think you were mad. What on earth made you do it? Were you mad or what?”
Clare brushed her hair back from her forehead.
“Sometimes I used to think I was going a little mad. But now I know what is the matter with me.”