Suffragette Girl
“But the same night, as the family was rising from the dinner table, the ladies to the drawing room and Edgar to his study to smoke a cigar and drink brandy, they heard the noise of a pony and trap drawing up outside the front door.
‘Now, who on earth can that be at this hour?’ Edgar muttered crossly. He enjoyed his solitary hour in the study after dinner and hated interruptions to the routine of the household.
Bowler opened the door as the family crowded into the hall.
‘James!’ Clar...a hurried forward, her arms outstretched. ‘What’s happened? Has there been an accident? Are you hurt?’ Florrie sought her brother’s face as he moved into the light. There was a strange mixture of emotions in his expression: triumph and yet a dreadful fear too and, worse still, a sense of the inevitable.
Clara was still gushing over her son, but Florrie gripped her grandmother’s arm and whispered, ‘Oh, Gran, he’s volunteered.MoreLess
‘Now, who on earth can that be at this hour?’ Edgar muttered crossly. He enjoyed his solitary hour in the study after dinner and hated interruptions to the routine of the household.
Bowler opened the door as the family crowded into the hall.
‘James!’ Clar...a hurried forward, her arms outstretched. ‘What’s happened? Has there been an accident? Are you hurt?’ Florrie sought her brother’s face as he moved into the light. There was a strange mixture of emotions in his expression: triumph and yet a dreadful fear too and, worse still, a sense of the inevitable.
Clara was still gushing over her son, but Florrie gripped her grandmother’s arm and whispered, ‘Oh, Gran, he’s volunteered.MoreLess
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