She continued to fan herself. “But I am sorry,” she exclaimed. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. They travelled past the few idle sightseers who had braved the uninviting evening to see what the Suffragettes might be doing; they pulled up unchallenged within thirty yards of those coveted portals. " "A promise to my mother?" said Winifred, unsuspiciously. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards.
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