Gerald shook his head. “To the view that all those Splendid Women in the movement ought to have votes. See what crime does, Sir. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. Her eardrums were burning with the echoes of those hideous shouts. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size.
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