A mad, wicked folly

With Will next to me, the fog no longer seemed ominous; instead, it felt peaceful. The fog blotted out the surroundings and any passersby, making it feel as though we were the only people about. "So you believe in votes for women?" I asked as we walked. "I don't see the point in denying half the population the right to vote." He shook his head. "It's daft. So yes, the suffragists have my sympathies. I can't work out which side you're on, though." "With the women, of course." "But you don't fight with them?" He looked at me, his eyes questioning. "I'm going to help them with the artwork. I'm not the fighting type." I twirled my beret around my hand. He grinned. "And an artist can't fight?" Excerpted from A Mad, Wicked Folly by Sharon Biggs Waller All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.