abroad. They seem miles behind us, with all our faults. Mother only
seems to think now of good things to eat and a course of the waters
at Spa in September to neutralize the over-eating of the other
eleven months. There is no political career for women on the
Continent."

"Then why not marry and have children? That is a career in itself.
Look at Honoria, how happy she is."

"Yes--but there is only one man I could love, and he's married
already."

"Pooh! nonsense. There are as many good fish in the sea as ever came
out of it. If you won't do as Beryl did--by the bye isn't she a
swell in these days! And _strict_ with her daughters! She won't let
'em come here, I'm told, because of some silly story some one set
abroad about me! And that humbug, Francis Brimley Storrington--by
the bye he's an A.R.A. now and scarcely has enough talent to design
a dog kennel, yet they've given him the job of the new stables at
Buckingham Palace. Well if you won't share some one else's husband,
pick out a good man for yourself. There must be plenty going--some
retired prize-fighter. They seem all the rage just now, and are
supposed to be awfully gentlemanly out of the ring."

"Don't be perverse. You know exactly how I feel. I'm wasting the
prime of my life. I see no clear course marked out before me.
Sometimes I think I would like to explore Central Africa or get up a
Woman's Expedition to the South Pole. Life has seemed so flat since
I gave up being David Williams. Then I lived in a perpetual thrill,
always on my guard. I tire every now and then of my monkey tricks,
and the praise of all these women leaves me cold. I wish I were as
simple minded as most of them are. To them the Vote seems the
beginning of the millennium. They seem to forget that after we've
_got_ the Vote we shall have another fight to be admitted as members
to the House. You may be sure the men will stand out another fifty
years over _that_ surrender. I alternate in my moods between the
reckless fury of an Anarchist and the lassitude of Lord Rosebery. To
think that I was once so elated and conceited about being a Third
Wrangler...!"

With the closing months of 1912, however, there was a greater
tenseness, a sharpening of the struggle which once more roused
Vivie to keen interest. When she returned from an autumn visit to
Villa Beau-sejour she found there had been a split between the
"Peths" and the "Panks." The Girondist section of the women
suffragists had separat