"Then it's a good thing you haven't a vote. Do you think I'd let you neutralize mine?"
Warned by his tone, Hildegarde was silent.
"Oh, this thing of women voting!" he raged. "Why should my daughter set her mind against my convictions? Why should any daughter? Why should any wife set herself against her husband? It's all wrong, I tell you. A woman like you, Hildegarde, why, a woman like you should be content to be adored. Shouldn't she, Merry, shouldn't she?"
Meriweather was driving, with Hildegarde in the seat beside him. Carew, back of them, leaned forward while he argued in his ragged, irascible voice.
"Shouldn't she, Merry?"
"Well, she is adorable, isn't she, Louis? And we will keep her from voting as long as we can."
Carew growled and settled back in his seat. They rode on in silence for a while, then Hildegarde said, very low, and only for Meriweather's ears:
"Oh, you men! With your heels on our necks!"
He gave her his amused glance. "So you feel like that about it?"
"With you and Daddy. But not with Crispin."
"Crispin again?"
"Yes. He's glad I can vote."
"Perhaps your politics agree."
"What has that to do with it?"
"He would naturally be complacent to add a vote to his." He was still smiling.
"He isn't like that. He would take me to the polls himself, no matter how I voted."
"A perfect young man," Meriweather emphasized.
