“For Heaven’s sake, no,” she answered quickly. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. I had no idea. Charvill’s fury was burning out. She was too late. Perhaps she would have to charge this man and appear in a police-court next day. " "Don't say anything about it, dear Mrs.
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