’ ‘Believe me, she wouldn’t have cared. He could not tell by the look of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she would be free. Oh, you must believe me. I know life. No more. I thought that you loved Paris and your work so much. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. “To the view that all women ought to have votes whether they like it or not. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. ” He too rose. " "Oh, that!" she said, with a deprecating gesture. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave. It’s just life, pure life, life nascent, running clear and strong. ” “I can assure you,” he answered, “that it isn’t a habit of mine.
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