Ruth drank in these intellectual controversies, storing away facts. ‘Then I am not mad in the least. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. She felt flattered. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. Ruth returned to the table. You are to make for that and get into the lobby if you can, and so try and reach the floor of the House, crying ‘Votes for Women!’ as you go. Truth to tell, more damage had been done in the enthusiastic chase carried out by the militiamen detailed to catch it.
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