"
"Jocelyn," the Colonel would reply with scorn; "pah! There may
have been a short space of time during which the fellow's long hair
and windy rhetoric impressed her. But I flatter myself I've put MY
spoke in Mr. Jocelyn's wheel. Why, damme, sir, she's consented to
stand for Grand Dame of the Bermondsey Branch of the Primrose
League next year. What's Jocelyn to say to that, the scoundrel!"
What Jocelyn said was:-
"I know the woman is weak. But I do not blame her; I pity her.
When the time comes, as soon it will, when woman is no longer a
puppet, dancing to the threads held by some brainless man--when a
woman is not threatened with social ostracism for daring to follow
her own conscience instead of that of her nearest male relative--
then will be the time to judge her. It is not for me to betray the
confidence reposed in me by a suffering woman, but you can tell
that interesting old fossil, Colonel Maxim, that he and the other
old women of the Bermondsey Branch of the Primrose League may elect
Mrs. Clifton Courtenay for their President, and make the most of
it; they have only got the outside of the woman.
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