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 all woman's progress. And smiling right over his shoulder stands Mr. Lloyd George, the present premier. Oh, well! The girl in the green sweater who horsewhipped one member of Parliament, at the Brighton races, is driving a Red Cross ambulance in Flanders. The quiet little woman in a grey coat, who fired the country house of another in 1912, is rolling lint bandages. Sergeant Jones's wife has become a bread winner. Soldiers are not afraid for women to vote. And cabinet ministers take courage!

There is a town in the north of England with a monument erected to a shipwrecked crew: "In memory of 17 souls and 3 women," says the marble testimonial. That categorical classification to which the English ivy clings is about to be changed. Six million English women are about to be made people!

At the outbreak of hostilities, politicians the world over hastened to declare woman's suffrage a "controversial" question that must be put aside during the war. And every government engaged said to its suffragists: "We're in so much trouble, for heaven's sake don't you make us any more."

"Well, we won't," the women agreed, as the organisations in land after land called off their political campaigns. It was for his sake—the man in khaki. And in every land, the trained women of the suffrage societies assembled their countrywomen