” She knelt upon the floor of her cell and clasped her hands, and remained for a long time in silence. ”) Well, they might say that, but he knew very well that before long they would regret it. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. Some day, when the rewards of literature permit the arduous research required, the Campaign of the Women will find its Carlyle, and the particulars of that marvellous series of exploits by which Miss Brett and her colleagues nagged the whole Western world into the discussion of women’s position become the material for the most delightful and amazing descriptions.
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