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Table of contents
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-1-2
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-3-4
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-5-6
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-7
ANN VERONICA GATHERS POINTS OF VIEW-1-2
ANN VERONICA GATHERS POINTS OF VIEW-3
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-1-2
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-3-4-5
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-6-7
THE CRISIS-1-2-3-4
THE FLIGHT TO LONDON-1-2-3
THE FLIGHT TO LONDON-4-5-6
EXPOSTULATIONS-1-2-3-4
EXPOSTULATIONS-5-6
IDEALS AND A REALITY-1-2
IDEALS AND A REALITY-3-4
IDEALS AND A REALITY-5-6-7
BIOLOGY-1-2
BIOLOGY-3-4-5-6
BIOLOGY-7-8-9
DISCORDS-1
DISCORDS-2-3-4
DISCORDS-5-6-8-9
THE SUFFRAGETTES-1-2-3
THE SUFFRAGETTES-4-5
THOUGHTS IN PRISON-1-2-3-4-5-6
ANN VERONICA PUTS THINGS IN ORDER-1-2-3-4-5-6-7
THE SAPPHIRE RING-1-2-3-4
THE SAPPHIRE RING-5-6
THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT-1-2-3
THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT-4-5-6
THE LAST DAYS AT HOME-1-2-3
IN THE MOUNTAINS-1-2-3-4
IN THE MOUNTAINS-5-6-7-8-9-10-11
IN PERSPECTIVE-1-2-3

 

 

 

CHAPTER THE TENTH 

 

THE SUFFRAGETTES 

 

 

Part 1 

 

 

"There is only one way out of all this," said Ann Veronica, sitting up 

in her little bed in the darkness and biting at her nails. 

 

"I thought I was just up against Morningside Park and father, but it's 

the whole order of things--the whole blessed order of things...." 

 

She shivered. She frowned and gripped her hands about her knees very 

tightly. Her mind developed into savage wrath at the present conditions 

of a woman's life. 

 

"I suppose all life is an affair of chances. But a woman's life is all 

chance. It's artificially chance. Find your man, that's the rule. All 

the rest is humbug and delicacy. He's the handle of life for you. He 

will let you live if it pleases him.... 

 

"Can't it be altered? 

 

"I suppose an actress is free?..." 

 

She tried to think of some altered state of affairs in which these 

monstrous limitations would be alleviated, in which women would stand on 

their own feet in equal citizenship with men. For a time she brooded on 

the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations 

of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense 

individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social 

order. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant 

qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. She would 

not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then 

she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her 

generalizations. 

 

"It is true. It is no good waiving the thing; it is true. Unless women 

are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a 

generation of martyrs.... Why shouldn't we be martyrs? There's 

nothing else for most of us, anyhow. It's a sort of blacklegging to want 

to have a life of one's own...." 

 

She repeated, as if she answered an objector: "A sort of blacklegging. 

 

"A sex of blacklegging clients." 

 

Her mind diverged to other aspects, and another type of womanhood. 

 

"Poor little Miniver! What can she be but what she is?... Because 

she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it 

doesn't alter the fact that she is right." 

 

That phrase about dragging the truth through swamps of nonsense she 

remembered from Capes. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed 

to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of 

a lava into glowing depths. She wallowed for a time in the thought of 


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