in the middle of winter.â The shorter girl had clasped her hands over her heart and was clearly mooning.
For some reason Annieâs overt interest in Michael needled Tess. She knew it was foolish to allow herself to be bothered, since the maid was a far more likely social choice for him to make than she was.
Nevertheless, Tess was surprised and a little saddenedby a twinge of jealousy. What was wrong with her? Was she daft? Just because a man was stalwart and handsome and so glib-tongued that his very words sent shivers up her spine, it didnât mean that she should take his supposed interest seriously. After all, she was a Clark, a member of the San Francisco upper crust. And as such she did have a family reputation to uphold whether she thought it a silly pretense or not.
Standing tall and leading the way, Tess gathered a handful of skirt for ease of walking and crossed the lawn to the wide entry doors of the meeting hall. There were ladies from all walks of life proceeding with her in a flowing tide of gracious yet clearly animated womanhood, she noted, pleased and energized by the atmosphere.
Perhaps this suffragette movement would remove some of the social stigmas that had always set her apart from many of her good sister Christians like Annie, she mused. If it did nothing else, she would be forever grateful.
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Michael worked his way slowly south on Van Ness Avenue and turned onto Market Street. As he had hoped, there was plenty of room there for the Clark buggy. He tipped a small boy in tattered knee britches and a slouchy cap to watch the rig for him while he was gone, then headed back for Mechanicsâ Pavilion at a trot.
He hadnât gone a hundred yards when a man grabbed his arm and stopped him. It was one of his fellow firemen.
âHey, Michael, me boy. Whereâre you bound in such a hurry?â
Before thinking, he answered, âThe pavilion.â
That young man, and those with him, guffawed. âNo wonder youâre wearinâ your uniform. If youâre lookinâ to use that badge to impress a good woman, you surely wonât find one there. Where are you really goinâ?â
âNone of your business, OâNeill.â
âNow, now, donât be trying to get above yourself, boyo.â He laughed again, spewing the odor of strong drink on a cloud of his breath.
âDonât worry about me,â Michael replied with disdain. âJust take care of yourself and donât end up in a bar fight again.â
OâNeillâs only reply was a hearty laugh and a slap on the back as he shared his amusement with most of the others gathered nearby.
Michael hurried away from the group of obviously inebriated men, hoping none of them decided to trail after him on a lark. It wasnât that he felt he couldnât handle himself well in any situation. He just didnât want his cronies to follow him all the way to Tess and continue their taunts, straining the difficult circumstances even further.
He neednât have worried. Getting past the crowd milling around in the street and on the sidewalks and lawn bordering the enormous Mechanicsâ Pavilion was so difficult, Michael doubted heâd be followed by anyone.
It was all he could do to work his way through to the meeting hall entrance. First he had to run the gauntletof shouting, chanting, angry men carrying placards denouncing the womenâs movement, then convince the uniformed police officers posted at the doors that his intentions were peaceful and honorable.
âI escorted several young ladies,â Michael shouted to the guards. âTheyâre waiting for me inside. I promised to join them.â He held up his right hand, palm out. âOn my honor.â
The burly doormen looked at each other and then back at him, clearly cognizant of his official firemanâs attire. âAll right,â one of them said. âBut any trouble from you and youâre headed for