The common people--the cannon fodder, the men who would die, and the women who would weep: they should be given something more than the privilege of either cheering platform patriots or being summoned for interrupting public meetings.
From a dismal side street there darted past her a small, shapeless figure in crumpled cap and apron: evidently a member of that lazy, over-indulged class, the domestic servant.

Judging from the talk of the drawing-rooms, the correspondence in the papers, a singularly unsatisfactory body.

They toiled not, lived in luxury and demanded grand pianos.

Someone had proposed doing something for them.

They themselves--it seemed that even they had a sort of conscience--were up in arms against it.