' What poisonous rubbish!
You know as well as I do that in most cases it makes little or no
difference; and if it does, what about men? Aren't _they_ at certain
times not their normal selves? When they're full up with wine or
beer or whiskey, when they're courting, when they're pursuing some
illicit love, when after fifty they get a little odd in their ways
through this, that and the other internal trouble or change of
function? What's true of the one sex is equally true of the other.
Most men and women between twenty and sixty jolly well know what
they want, and generally they want something reasonable. We don't
legislate for the freaks, the unbalanced, the abnormal; or if we do
restrict the vote in those cases, let's restrict it for males as
well as females--But don't you see at the same time what a text I
should furnish to this malign creature if I ran away to Paris with
Michael, and made the slightest false step ... even though it had no
bearing on the main argument?..."
At this juncture Vivie, whose obsession leads her more and more to
address every one as a public meeting--is interrupted by the smiling
_bonne a tout faire_ who announces that _le dejeuner de Madame est
servi_, and the two women gathering up books and shawls go in to the
gay little _saile-a-manger_ of the Villa Beau-sejour.
On Vivie's return to London, after her Easter holiday, she threw
herself with added zest into the Suffrage struggle.
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