’ Melusine’s eyes flashed. “I wanted to go to an art-student ball of which he disapproved. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. ’ Which effectually silenced her. ” That phrase about dragging the truth through swamps of nonsense she remembered from Capes.
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