'Women are all individualists,' she broke in; 'or they are until society breaks their spirit. This lumping of people into generations and tuning your son's brain to the same pitch as his medieval ancestors' doesn't interest women--that's man's performance. The great thing about a woman is her own life, isn't it? And the great event in a woman's life is when she has a child--because it's _hers_. This class and family stuff comes from men, because their names are perpetuated, not ours. There is no snobbery equal to men's; it is more noticeable with women, because it isn't instinctive with them, and they have to talk to show it.' 'Then,' said Selwyn, 'in addition to an Irish Rebellion, we may look for one from English women?' 'Yes. I don't know when, but it will come.' He produced a cigarette-case. 'Would you care for a cigarette now?' he asked. 'No, thanks. But you smoke.' 'Poor England!' he said in pretended seriousness, tapping the table with the end of the cigarette, 'with two revolutions on her hands, and neither party knowing what it wants.' 'We may not know what we want,' she said, 'but, as an Irishman said the other day, "we won't be satisfied till we get it." If the rebellion of our women doesn't come, I prophesy that in a couple of thousand years, when the supermen inhabit the earth, they will find a sort of land mermaid with an expressionless face, perpetually going through the motion of dealing cards or drinking tea. Then some old fogy will spend ten years in research, and pronounce her an excellent example of the extinct race "_Femina Anglica_."' 'As one of the tyrants who wishes you well,' said Selwyn, after a laugh in which she joined, 'may I be permitted to know what women want--or think they want?' 'Mr. Selwyn, revolutions never come from people who think. That is why they are so terrible. The unhappiness of so many Englishwomen comes from the life which does not demand or permit the use of half the powers they possess. Nor does it satisfy half their longings. Such a condition produces either stagnation or revolution. Our ultimatum is--give us a life which demands all our resources and permits women unlimited opportunity for self-development. 'And if the men cannot do this?' 'The women will have to take charge.' 'And when does the ultimatum expire?' She shrugged her shoulders. 'When will the next great earthquake be?' VII. The noise of the party in the _cabinet particulier_ had been growing apace with the reinforcement of champagne-bottles. The strident laughter of the women dominated the lower level of men's voices, and there was a constant clinking of glasses, punctuated by the occasional drawing of a cork, which always whipped the gaiety to a feverish pitch. Monsieur Beauchamp rubbed his hands rather anxiously. He would have preferred a little more intrigue and not quite so much noise. But, then, was it not a testimony to his wine?--and certainly there would be an excellent bill.