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England having to do with an ancient eastern power ruled by tsars.
    â€œ France and England might draw closer,” she said, almost with a shudder, “but Russia seems too remote and different and far away.”
    â€œRussia is England’s ally now,” said Halifax. “It’s a changing world. Change is happening on the Continent more rapidly than most English realize. Especially in Russia. Forces are at work there that very few understand, even though socialism began right here inEngland. Conflict is coming, and England will not be able to avoid being drawn into it.”
    The talk of changing times unsettled Amanda. She could not have said why. Though she prided herself on being part of the avant garde , she was uncomfortable when events moved beyond her capacity to influence or understand them. Women’s rights were one thing. Alliances with Russia were another. She didn’t like the sound of it.
    â€œWhy are the cliffs white?” she asked at length.
    â€œThe rock here is mostly chalk.”
    Again it was quiet. Halifax glanced down at his watch. “Almost four-thirty. It’s probably time we thought about getting you back to the city. We don’t want Mrs. Pankhurst upset with me.”
    He rose, took Amanda’s hand, and pulled her to her feet and safely away from the cliff. She sighed deeply, taking one last gaze up and down the coast. They turned and walked back to the car.
    â€œEmmeline won’t worry about me,” said Amanda. “She’s not my mother, after all. She lets me do as I please.”

 12  Two Fathers
    Charles Rutherford and his twenty-two-year-old son George, home for a weekend visit during his final term at Oxford, were busily stringing wire in the second floor of the north wing of Heathersleigh Hall, the last portion of the great stone mansion yet to be outfitted with electricity. As happy as he was for his son’s education, it was always a boon to the father’s spirits to have him home, even if briefly.
    Both were eagerly anticipating the summer months. Already plans were being laid between them for the completion of the electrical project, as well as the installation of a telephone at the Hall. Charles’ work on the prime minister’s commission allowed him not only to keep pace with developments elsewhere in the country, but to have a hand in directing them as well. As more and more electrical and telephone lines were strung outward from London, Charles’ dreams were being fulfilled almost more rapidly than he had dared imagine.
    George came bounding down the stairs from the attic.
    â€œWhat would you think, Father,” he said, “of running a line up into the garret?”
    â€œA little soon for that, isn’t it, George?” replied Charles, looking up from where he sat on the floor pulling a length of wire through the hole he had recently bored from the other side of the wall. “We haven’t even finished the main house yet.”
    â€œI know. But I want to have light operational up there later this summer. I found a spot where I can drill down easily through thefloor and connect with the junction we made this morning between the library and the armory. The wire will hardly be seen. Then the current will be in the garret when we’re ready to install lights.”
    Charles laughed. “You seem to have thought it through. Sure, go ahead, George.”
    â€œThanks, Father!”
    â€œIf I need you, I’ll pound on the ceiling with Morse code!”
    George turned and hurried back to his project. Charles watched him go with a pleased smile. As the last words of his son continued to sound in his brain, gradually the smile faded and his thoughts turned reflectively toward his second child.
    Neither did the last words she had spoken to him ever leave his thoughts. He would not forget them should he live to be five hundred years old.
    â€œI have no respect left for either of you,”