“You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. The next morning came a compact letter from her father. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired. Leaning upon a gate he looked down into the valley. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. ” “We are working for the equal citizenship of men and women,” said the tired woman. She allowed herself to be ejected, therefore, and retired to the parlour after cleansing the blood from her hands and her own slight wound in the kitchen. The thought made her exquisitely happy. She was dropped off at 2:30 at Whitefield Park, a huge extravagantly lit field in the new part of town. ’ She bit her lip and thought deeply.
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