His voice softened. "You’re not like one of them, Laura. You’re lovely and a woman who desires a man’s arms around her." His smile didn’t reach his sober eyes. "I don’t want to have you turn into a spinster like Miss Paul."

"Miss Paul has dedicated her life to our cause." Laura’s hands shook, and she felt so angry she could cry, but she wouldn’t give Shawn the satisfaction.

"All right, but we’ve been going out for several months and I’m constantly competing with the suffragist meetings. In fact, I wish you’d take me as seriously as you do Miss Paul." His words were clipped and abrupt. "A little of that treatment goes a long way."

It suddenly occurred to her that Shawn had never had to take no for an answer, certainly not when it came to girls. When he asked, they accepted. She wondered for a brief moment if she were doing the right thing. If he were put off too many times he’d move on elsewhere and not give her a backward glance. She didn’t really want to lose him. Shawn was bright; she could enlighten and change him.

"Now," Shawn said, his good humor restored. "I’m as willing as Joe to indulge your whims, but you need to have a little fun, to go dancing," he said with a lopsided grin. "If you stick around those fanatical old hens in the Women’s Party, you’ll even start cackling like one."

Flushing angrily, she pushed her teacup aside. He was hopeless. "Really, Shawn. I don’t appreciate the comparison."

"Sorry," he said briefly, toying with his spoon.

She took a deep breath. She hated to shy away from an issue that was obviously on both their minds, and she knew it would come up again, but right now she wanted to enjoy Shawn’s company. She hadn’t seen him all week, and she didn’t want him leaving angry. "Let’s not discuss the suffragists anymore," she said as pleasantly as she could.

"Suits me." He lightly touched her fingers. "Next month General Long is taking a few of the military brass on a tour of the White House — June twentieth, to be exact — and I’ve wheedled an invitation for you. Would that please you?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "It’s been about" — she squinted at the ceiling fan — "about nine years since I’ve been there. Mother and Dad took Sarah and me one summer day. The rooms were gorgeous, and even then I was impressed. At the end of the day we had a picnic along the Potomac’s banks." She swirled her teacup, studying the residue at the bottom. How long ago that seemed. Her father had been so exuberant, lifting her high on his shoulder and carrying her around, explaining what this painting meant, who donated that vase, and what president had decorated the Red Room. It had been a glorious outing.

"And July twenty-first," Shawn continued, "I want to take you to an army dance. That is, if you can tear yourself away from the suffragists. The dance is especially for the officers, so it should be posh. I want you to wear your best dress. I like your violet gown."

"I’ll wear it, because it’s the only party dress I own. I wish I could have a new dress, but the war curtails everything, what you can eat, what you wear… I’ll be so glad to be able to buy some new clothes."

"I don’t blame you. See this uniform?" Shawn said distastefully, running his finger beneath the high collar. "I’m getting rid of it as soon as peace comes. I can’t wait for my discharge."

She was a little surprised, for Shawn had made a comfortable niche for himself in the military. He was personable, and General Long, waiving protocol, had more than once invited him places where only dignitaries and Washington society mingled. Shawn had been promoted in a matter of the few months that he’d been stationed here, so her puzzlement must have shown on her face.

"Surprised?" Shawn asked with a twitch of his eyebrow.

"I did think you might make the army your career. Look at you" — she grinned, pointing to the three-stripe chevron on his sleeve — "you’re a sergeant already."

"No, I’ve done my hitch. I’m enrolling in law school right here in the city and be the best damn lawyer east of the Mississippi." He winked. "And earn piles of money defending anyone with the greenbacks to pay. You’ll have plenty of new dresses then, Laura."

Did that last statement mean what she thought it did? Did this handsome, carefree soldier sitting across from her really love her? She wanted to ask him what he meant but instead said, "You’ll be a good lawyer, Shawn." And he would, too, but somehow she wished he’d not worry so much about fees. He should be more concerned with people that needed his help, regardless of how many greenbacks were offered to him. Her thoughts turned to the suffragists who had been arrested. Doubtless they’d still be in prison if it hadn’t been for lawyers who donated their time and energy to free them. Well, she had to be practical and realize that Shawn would no doubt become a prominent, wealthy Washington lawyer and magnanimous only when it suited his purposes.

The sun’s slanting rays caused her to ask Shawn the time.

"Holy smoke! It’s almost six!" He jumped up, offering her his hand. "We’ve been here almost two hours, and I’m to report to General Long, and you’re to report to General Paul!" His eyes twinkled, and she smiled back at him. They did have fun together, even if they didn’t always agree.

As they parted company she thought of the two events Shawn would take her to — the White House tour and an officers' dance. Silently she vowed to keep those two engagements with him, no matter how many rallies Miss Paul called.

Chapter Fourteen

With a last glance back at Shawn, Laura turned down Pennsylvania Avenue, loving the wide street with the tall trees lining either side. In the distance the pristine whiteness of the White House shone in the sunset. The sidewalks were crowded with people, but there was little doubt that it was wartime. She passed three women in YWCA outfits, a group of sailors who doffed their caps in elaborate exaggeration in her direction, several army officers followed by a navy officer whose uniform was festooned with gold braid. On the street a line of supply trucks rattled by.

A newsboy thrust the Washington Post in her face, but she shook her head, walking faster. However, the glimpse at the newspaper’s headline — U-BOATS TORPEDO 30 SHIPS THIS MONTH — made her buoyant spirits sag a little. The killing continued, and the Germans seemed stronger than ever, winning one battle after another throughout France. Despite Michael’s assurances that the Germans would never cross the Marne River, she was not so positive.

A contingent of Red Cross nurses jostled her. As they swept by, laughing and chatting, she wondered if their smiles would be quite so wide if she were wearing a yellow sash across her dark blouse.

The tower clock struck six, and she broke into a run. How could time slip by so fast?

As she walked through the corridor of the mansion with its noise and bustle and the constant clacking of typewriters, several secretaries nodded and smiled at her. Laura was pleased, for she was becoming known. Her loyalty, and always doing her job and attending rallies, had paid off.

Dashing past the switchboard operator and the Press Room, she headed to the rear of the house.

Entering the kitchen, she fastened on her Votes-for-Women ribbon and began filling the vacuum bottles with coffee.

"Ah, Laura, I was afraid you might not come tonight," Lucy Burns said as she poured two cups of tea. "I’d heard you might be expelled from school."

"Mr. Cole, my principal, gave me a reprieve," Laura said with a shy smile, for this woman was one of the main leaders in the Women’s Party, second only to Alice Paul, and though she’d heard Lucy Burns speak, she’d never had a conversation with her.

"I’m glad you can stay in school. We need more women in the professions," Lucy said firmly, looking down at Laura. She was a tall woman, and her rolled-up shirtsleeves, held in place by an elastic garter around her upper arm, showed she was quite muscular and physically fit. "When we were in prison, we demanded to be examined by women doctors, not that they sent us any."

Placing the two cups on a tray, Lucy reached for a large jar. "Alice and I need a molasses cookie before we go out on the line." She glanced at Laura. "You do plan to go to college, don’t you?"

"Yes," she responded without a second thought. It was as natural as if Lucy had asked if she had planned to go on breathing. She hadn’t really thought about college, not since that day when she had burned the blueprints. It was as if from that day on she wasn’t concerned about her future. Now, talking to Lucy Burns, this staunch ally of Alice Paul, she wanted to be a professional, maybe a doctor like Joe.

"Are there many women doctors?" she asked curiously.

"Very few." Lucy’s lips tightened.

Nibbling a cookie, Lucy leaned against the counter, shaking her head. "Alice is tired and run-down. I’m anxious for her. She’s worried about the arrests."

Laura knew that Lucy had the reputation of the eternal optimist while Alice was the pessimist. Lucy’s good spirits were known throughout the Party, even when she had served her sentence at Occoquan Workhouse. "How many arrests have there been?"

"We’ve had thirty this week, but they’re a token," Lucy said grimly. "Chief Bentley knows it and we know it."

"Then why does he do it?"

"He’s a vindictive little man. After our seven months in prison we were released by a court order. Since then we’ve filed sixteen suits against the government for arresting us and we’ve won." Abruptly she laughed, slapping the kitchen countertop with the flat of her hand. "Those court sessions were worth all the money we’ve collected. It gave us an open forum for our views, and believe me, we expressed them loud and clear."