Her unnatural calm was giving way. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. “I wish I could make every woman, every girl, see this as clearly as I see it—just what the Vote means to us. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains. Good night. "Devilish nice ham you've got here!—capital pie!—and, as I live, a flask of excellent canary. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance. Ask your own conscience.
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