affect her main position。
“I’m not angry with you；” she said slowly。 “I will go on
seeing you； as I said I would。”
It was true that she had promised that much already；
and it was difficult for him to say what more it was that
he wanted—some intimacy； some help against the ghost
of Katharine； perhaps； something that he knew he had no
right to ask； and yet； as he sank into his chair and looked
once more at the dying fire it seemed to him that he had
been defeated； not so much by Mary as by life itself。 He
felt himself thrown back to the beginning of life again；
where everything has yet to be won； but in extreme youth
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one has an ignorant hope。 He was no longer certain that
he would triumph。
CHAPTER XX
Happily for Mary Datchet she returned to the office to
find that by some obscure Parliamentary maneuver the
vote had once more slipped beyond the attainment of
women。 Mrs。 Seal was in a condition bordering upon frenzy。
The duplicity of Ministers； the treachery of mankind； the
insult to womanhood； the setback to civilization； the ruin
of her life’s work； the feelings of her father’s daughter—
all these topics were discussed in turn； and the office
was littered with newspaper cuttings branded with the
blue； if ambiguous； marks of her displeasure。 She confessed
herself at fault in her estimate of human nature。
“The simple elementary acts of justice；” she said； waving
her hand towards the window； and indicating the foot
passengers and omnibuses then passing down the far side
of Russell Square； “are as far beyond them as they ever
were。 We can only look upon ourselves； Mary； as pioneers
in a wilderness。 We can only go on patiently putting the
truth before them。 It isn’t them；” she continued； taking
heart from her sight of the traffic； “it’s their leaders。 It’s
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those gentlemen sitting in Parliament and drawing four
hundred a year of the people’s money。 If we had to put our
case to the people； we should soon have justice done to
us。 I have always believed in the people； and I do so still。
But—” She shook her head and implied that she would
give them one more chance； and if they didn’t take advantage
of that she couldn’t answer for the consequences。
Mr。 Clacton’s attitude was more philosophical and better
supported by statistics。 He came into the room after
Mrs。 Seal’s outburst and pointed out； with historical illustrations；
that such reverses had happened in every
political campaign of any importance。 If anything； his
spirits were improved by the disaster。 The enemy； he said；
had taken the offensive； and it was now up to the Society
to outwit the enemy。 He gave Mary to understand that he
had taken the measure of their cunning； and had already
bent his mind to the task which； so far as she could make
out； depended solely upon him。 It depended； so she came
to think； when invited into his room for a private conference；
upon a systematic revision of the cardindex； upon
the issue of certain new lemoncolored leaflets； in which
the facts were marshaled once more in a very striking
way； and upon a large scale map of England dotted with
little pins tufted with differently colored plumes of hair
according to their geographical position。 Each district；
under the new system； had its flag； its bottle of ink； its
sheaf of documents tabulated and filed for reference in a
drawer； so that by looking under M or S； as the case might
be； you had all the facts with respect to the Suffrage
organizations of that county at your fingers’ ends。 This
would require a great deal of work； of course。
“We must try to consider ourselves rather in the light of
a telephone exchange—for the exchange of ideas； Miss
Datchet；” he said； and taking pleasure in his image； he
continued it。 “We should consider ourselves the center of
an enormous system of wires； connecting us up with every
district of the country。 We must have our fingers upon
the pulse of the munity； we want to know what people
all over England are thinking； we want to put them in the
way of thinking rightly。” The system； of course； was only
roughly sketched so far—jotted down； in fact； during the
Christmas holidays。
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“When you ought to have been taking a rest； Mr。
Clacton；” said Mary dutifully； but her tone was flat and
tired。
“We learn to do without holidays； Miss Datchet；” said
Mr。 Clacton； with a spark of satisfaction in his eye。
He wished particularly to have her opinion of the lemon
colored leaflet。 According to his plan； it was to be distributed
in immense quantities immediately； in order to
stimulate and generate； “to generate and stimulate；” he
repeated； “right thoughts in the country before the meeting
of Parliament。”
“We have to take the enemy by surprise；” he said。 “They
don’t let the grass grow under their feet。 Have you seen
Bingham’s address to his constituents？ That’s a hint of
the sort of thing we’ve got to meet； Miss Datchet。”
He handed her a great bundle of newspaper cuttings；
and； begging her to give him her views upon the yellow
leaflet before lunchtime； he turned with alacrity to his
different sheets of paper and his different bottles of ink。
Mary shut the door； laid the documents upon her table；
and sank her head on her hands。 Her brain was curiously
empty of any thought。 She listened； as if； perhaps； by
listening she would bee merged again in the atmosphere
of the office。 From the next room came the rapid
spasmodic sounds of Mrs。 Seal’s erratic typewriting； she；
doubtless； was already hard at work helping the people
of England； as Mr。 Clacton put it； to think rightly； “generating
and stimulating；” those were his words。 She was
striking a blow against the enemy； no doubt； who didn’t
let the grass grow beneath their feet。 Mr。 Clacton’s words
repeated themselves accurately in her brain。 She pushed
the papers wearily over to the farther side of the table。 It
was no use； though； something or other had happened to
her brain—a change of focus so that near things were
indistinct again。 The same thing had happened to her
once before； she remembered； after she had met Ralph in
the gardens of Lincoln’s Inn Fields； she had spent the
whole of a mittee meeting in thinking about sparrows
and colors； until； almost at the end of the meeting；
her old convictions had all e back to her。 But they
had only e back； she thought with scorn at her feebleness；
because she wanted to use them to fight against
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Ralph。 They weren’t； rightly speaking； convictions at all。
She could not see the world divided into separate partments
of good people and bad people； any more than
she could believe so implicitly in the rightness of her
own thought as to wish to bring the population of the
British Isles into agreement with it。 She looked at the
lemoncolored leaflet； and thought almost enviously of
the faith which could find fort in the issue of such
documents； for herself she