' Jack Sheppard's library consisted of a few ragged and well-thumbed volumes abstracted from the tremendous chronicles bequeathed to the world by those Froissarts and Holinsheds of crime —the Ordinaries of Newgate. What ho! lights! lights!" And, shouting as he went, he flung himself down stairs. He had already shown the covering envelope and its instructions to Ruth, and she had ignored or misunderstood the warning. She was still more stirred by the idea of the equal citizenship of men and women, by the realization that a big and growing organization of women were giving form and a generalized expression to just that personal pride, that aspiration for personal freedom and respect which had brought her to London; but when she heard Miss Miniver discoursing on the next step in the suffrage campaign, or read of women badgering Cabinet Ministers, padlocked to railings, or getting up in a public meeting to pipe out a demand for votes and be carried out kicking and screaming, her soul revolted. Nothing to check their proceedings but a declining habit of telling the truth and the limitations of their imaginations. Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee equipage.
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