In France, even a washerwoman must hold political views and stand or fall by them.

It was astounding how poor every one felt at that moment, and it rested, as usual, with a woman's intuition to grasp the only rope within reach.

"The vintage," this lady murmured.

The vintage promised to be a bad one.

Nothing, assuredly, could be undertaken, and no promise made, until the vintage was over.
So the meeting broke up without romance, and the conspirators dispersed to their homes, carrying in their minds that mutual distrust which is ever awakened in human hearts by the chink of gold, while the dormant national readiness to detect betrayal by England was suddenly wide awake.
Nevertheless, Mrs.St.Pierre Lawrence had supplied the one ingredient necessary to leaven the talk of these dreamers into action.