Eve did not take to her hostess, and their hostess did not take to Eve. She looked at her with the veiled prejudices of a very plain woman for a girl who had more than good looks. Moreover, Eve had recovered her sense of humour, and these enthusiasts were rendered suspicious and uneasy by a glimmer of fun in the eyes. People who could laugh were not vindictively and properly in earnest.
“They can’t stop us. They can’t crush women who are not afraid of dying! Isn’t it glorious the way those noble girls have fought and refused to eat in prison? I know one woman who kept four wardresses at bay for half an hour. She kicked and struggled, and they had to give up trying to feed her. What fools we are making the men look! I feel I want to laugh in the faces of all the men I meet!”
Eve asked mildly: “And do you?”
“Do what?”
“Laugh when you meet them?”
“Well, no, not quite. It wouldn’t be dignified, would it? But I think they see the triumph in my eyes.”
Their hostess had forgotten that a letter had come for Joan Gaunt, and she only remembered it when Joan asked if it had arrived.
“Of course—how silly of me! I locked it up in my bureau. I was so fascinated listening to all your adventures.”
She fetched the letter, and Joan Gaunt read it. She smiled her leathery smile, and passed the letter over to Lizzie Straker.
“To-morrow night, where the road to Godalming branches off from the Horsham-Guildford road.”