And they both sat
down.
"I've glanced through some of your things," he said. "They're all right.
They're alive. What's your idea?"
Remembering Flossie's counsel, she went straight to the point. She
wanted to talk to the people. She wanted to get at them. If she had
been a man, she would have taken a chair and gone to Hyde Park. As it
was, she hadn't the nerve for Hyde Park. At least she was afraid she
hadn't. It might have to come to that. There was a trembling in her
voice that annoyed her. She was so afraid she might cry. She wasn't out
for anything crazy. She wanted only those things done that could be done
if the people would but lift their eyes, look into one another's faces,
see the wrong and the injustice that was all around them, and swear that
they would never rest till the pain and the terror had been driven from
the land. She wanted soldiers--men and women who would forget their own
sweet selves, not counting their own loss, thinking of the greater gain;
as in times of war and revolution, when men gave even their lives gladly
for a dream, for a hope--
Without warning he switched on the electric lamp that stood upon the
desk, causing her to draw back with a start.
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