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Palmerston-Swete, had her own particular swirl in the immense Vortex of the young century. If you had youth and life in you, you were in revolt.
Palmerston-Swete came first. Then Lady Victoria Threlfall. Then Dorothea. Then sixteen other women. Drayton did not look at them. He did not see what happened when the Cabinet Minister met his wife. He did not see the sixteen other women. He saw nothing but Dorothea walking by herself. She had no hat on. Her clothes were as the great raid had left them, a month ago.
He disapproved of so many things: of Women's Suffrage; of revolutions; of women who revolted; of anybody who revolted; of Mrs. Palmerston-Swete and Mrs. Blathwaite and Angela Blathwaite. It was putting it too mildly to say he disapproved of Rosalind Jervis; he detested her.
"Nicky's come home," she said. "Nicky?" "He's been sent down." "Whatever for?" "Darling, I can't possibly tell you." But in the end she did. Up till now Frances had taken a quiet interest in Women's Suffrage. It had got itself into the papers and thus become part of the affairs of the nation. The names of Mrs. Palmerston-Swete and Mrs.
Palmerston-Swete and the two Blathwaites. Her air of casual command, half-swagger, half-slouch, her stoop and the thrusting forward of her face, were copied sedulously from an admired model. Dorothy found her pitiable. She was hypnotized by the Blathwaites who worked her and would throw her away when she was of no more use.
Is it fair to call for volunteers, for raw recruits, and not tell them precisely and clearly what services will be required of them? Palmerston-Swete, and Mrs. Blathwaite, and Miss Angela Blathwaite, demand from its members blind, unquestioning obedience?" Maud Blackadder jumped up. "I protest. I, too, have the right to protest. Miss Harrison calls me to order.
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