"If you think--" she said, yielding gladly

"Oh, RATHER!" said I.

The Mayor of Kinghamstead, a managing little man with no great
belief in my oratorical powers, was sticking his face up to mine.

"It's all over," he said, "and you've won. Say all the nice things
you can and say them plainly."

I turned and handed Margaret out through the window and stood
looking over the Market-place, which was more than half filled with
swaying people. The crowd set up a roar of approval at the sight of
us, tempered by a little booing. Down in one corner of the square a
fight was going on for a flag, a fight that even the prospect of a
speech could not instantly check. "Speech!" cried voices, "Speech!"
and then a brief "boo-oo-oo" that was drowned in a cascade of shouts
and cheers. The conflict round the flag culminated in the smashing
of a pane of glass in the chemist's window and instantly sank to
peace.

"Gentlemen voters of the Kinghamstead Division," I began.

"Votes for Women!" yelled a voice, amidst laughter--the first time I
remember hearing that memorable war-cry.

"Three cheers for Mrs. Remington!"

"Mrs. Remington asks me to thank you," I said, amidst further uproar