"I always distrust women who say that," he said. "One naturally
suspects them of having got what they want by some underhand
means--and of having abandoned the rest of their sex. This is an age of
amalgamation; is not that so, Roden?"
He turned and sat down near to Dorothy. Roden thus appealed to, made
some necessary remark, and then lapsed into a thoughtful silence. It
seemed that Cornish was quite capable, however, of carrying on the
conversation by himself.
"Do you know nothing about your wrongs, either?" he asked Dorothy.
"Nothing," she replied. "I have not even the wit to know that I have
any."
"Good heavens!" he exclaimed. "No wonder Joan ceased writing to you.
You are a most suspicious case, Miss Roden. Of course you have righted
your wrongs--_sub rosa_--and leave other women to manage their own
affairs. That is what is called a blackleg. You are untrue to the
Union. In these days we all belong to some cause or another. We cannot
help it, and recent legislation adds daily to the difficulty. We must
either be rich or poor. At present the only way to live at peace with
one's poorer neighbours is to submit to a certain amount of robbery.
But some day the classes must combine to make a stand against the
masses. The masses are already combined. We must either be a man or a
woman. Some day the men must combine against the women, who are already
united behind a vociferous vanguard.
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