“Indeed you have come to hasty and mistaken conclusions about my intentions,” said the priest, whose principal virtue was perseverance. “Regarding your political opinions, I have every sympathy with your cause, though none for your methods. There is something so very coarse about militancy.”
“Have you ever tried denying a creature the food it needs? I think you would find that even a white mouse would be coarse if you starved it.”
“You may be right. My sister is a member of the Church League for Women’s Suffrage. Perhaps you also belong to that sisterhood?”
“No,” she answered. “I belong to the Shrieking Sisterhood.”
“It seems useless for me to try and help you in this mood,” sighed the priest. “I can only pray that I may be shown the way to your heart....”
“I have none,” she said.
In a garden not five hundred miles away from the garden in which she sat was the Fact which she had Forgotten, set in a silver light among the silver trees. The gardener stood among the pale grape-fruit trees, with his head back in his usual conceited way, with his hands in his pockets and his feet in the wet grass.
“This is nonsense,” he thought.
“She is only half human.”
“Love for a thing only half human is only half love.”