Part 3 She dismissed the first hotels she passed, she scarcely knew why, mainly perhaps from the mere dread of entering them, and crossed Waterloo Bridge at a leisurely pace. She was still more stirred by the idea of the equal citizenship of men and women, by the realization that a big and growing organization of women were giving form and a generalized expression to just that personal pride, that aspiration for personal freedom and respect which had brought her to London; but when she heard Miss Miniver discoursing on the next step in the suffrage campaign, or read of women badgering Cabinet Ministers, padlocked to railings, or getting up in a public meeting to pipe out a demand for votes and be carried out kicking and screaming, her soul revolted. "I shall behold the shameless hussy, face to face; and, if I find her as good-looking as she's represented, I don't know what I'll do in the end; but I'll begin by scratching her eyes out. I worshipped her and subdued myself. ‘Woof!’ uttered Trodger, gazing at the lady in some awe. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. He stepped in with a heavy foreboding of calamity.
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