Middle-class domestic problems should be solved not solely by fine
gentlemen from Oxford; the wife of the little clerk should be allowed her
say. War or peace, it should no longer be regarded as a question
concerning only the aged rich. The common people--the cannon fodder, the
men who would die, and the women who would weep: they should be given
something more than the privilege of either cheering platform patriots or
being summoned for interrupting public meetings.
From a dismal side street there darted past her a small, shapeless figure
in crumpled cap and apron: evidently a member of that lazy, over-indulged
class, the domestic servant. Judging from the talk of the drawing-rooms,
the correspondence in the papers, a singularly unsatisfactory body. They
toiled not, lived in luxury and demanded grand pianos. Someone had
proposed doing something for them. They themselves--it seemed that even
they had a sort of conscience--were up in arms against it. Too much
kindness even they themselves perceived was bad for them. They were
holding a meeting that night to explain how contented they were.
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