The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. “I wish I could make every woman, every girl, see this as clearly as I see it—just what the Vote means to us. Then he could hear Hilary breathing beside him, and from outside the muted twittering of birds. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. The door is open, so it is needless to ask leave to enter. Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving.
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