Annys monologue — The Master of Mrs. Chilvers: An Improbable Comedy

(_She turns_; _there are tears in her eyes_. _The question seems to recall her to herself_.) Nowhere. I am so sorry. I can’t help it. It seems to me to mean so much. It gives us the right to go before the people—to plead to them, not for ourselves, for them. (_Again she seems to lose consciousness of those at the table_, _of the room_.) To the men we will say: “Will you not trust us? Is it harm we have ever done you? Have we not suffered for you and with you? Were we not sent into the world to be your helpmeet? Are not the children ours as well as yours? Shall we not work together to shape the world where they must dwell? Is it only the mother-voice that shall not be heard in your councils? Is it only the mother-hand that shall not help to guide?” To the women we will say: “Tell them—tell them it is from no love of ourselves that we come from our sheltered homes into the street. It is to give, not to get—to mingle with the sterner judgments of men the deeper truths that God, through pain, has taught to women—to mingle with man’s justice woman’s pity, till there shall arise the perfect law—not made of man nor woman, but of both, each bringing what the other lacks.” And they will listen to us. Till now it has seemed to them that we were clamouring only for selfish ends. They have not understood. We shall speak to them of common purposes, use the language of fellow-citizens. They will see that we are worthy of the place we claim. They will welcome us as helpers in a common cause. They—