I asked her to marry me, and she consented. But, say we're friends. I’d take it— forgive me if I seem a little urgent—as a sort of proof of friendliness. Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. But a man’s opposition always inclined her to the suffrage side; she had a curious feeling of loyalty in seeing the more aggressive women through. “What the hell is going on here, Officer?” He grumbled. She was to fall back amongst the ruck, a young woman of talent, content perhaps to earn a scanty living by painting Christmas cards, or teaching at a kindergarten.
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