Zora kissed her.
The next afternoon Mrs. Cresswell went down to a white social settlement
of which Congressman Todd had spoken, where a meeting of the Civic Club
was to be held. She had come painfully to realize that if she was to
have a career she must make it for herself. The plain, unwelcome truth
was that her husband had no great interests in life in which she could
find permanent pleasure. Companionship and love there was and, she told
herself, always would be; but in some respects their lives must flow in
two streams. Last night, for the second time, she had irritated him; he
had spoken almost harshly to her, and she knew she must brood or work
today. And so she hunted work, eagerly.
She felt the atmosphere the moment she entered. There were carelessly
gowned women and men smart and shabby, but none of them were thinking of
clothes nor even of one another. They had great deeds in mind; they were
scanning the earth; they were toiling for men. The same grim excitement
that sends smaller souls hunting for birds and rabbits and lions, had
sent them hunting the enemies of mankind: they were bent to the chase,
scenting the game, knowing the infinite meaning of their hunt and the
glory of victory. Mary Cresswell had listened but a half hour before her
world seemed so small and sordid and narrow, so trivial, that a sense of
shame spread over her.
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