American Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page A

her and sending her sprawling.
    The exchange of blows went on for another minute or so. Then Mrs.
    Pankhurst took stock and rallied her troops with a cry. 'All right, all right!
    Retreat! We shall try another time, I want no serious injuries.'
    Just that quickly the assault fell apart. But the women didn't seem disheartened; they'd given the coppers a lively run. Shouting and catcalling, they promised to return.
    Paul and His Wife
    17
    Paul kept cranking, thankful Julie hadn't been hurt. He watched her lean over with a piece of chalk. The WSPU often left messages for all to see. VOTES FOR WOMEN. END MALE DOMINANCE. WE SHALL BE HEARD.
    Julie bent forward from the waist to write. The chief constable, short of breath and angry, took note, ran at her, and delivered a hard, vicious kick to her backside. Paul heard the sickening sound of Julie's head hitting the pavement.
    He yelled her name, abandoned the camera, charged across the street, ignoring a hot iron of pain that seared his back. Julie lifted her head groggily, supporting herself on her hands a moment before she collapsed again.
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    'Stand back, bucko,' a bobby said, hanging onto Paul's lapels. 'You've no call to--'
    'Get out of my way, that's my wife.' Paul punched the copper in the stomach, bruising his knuckles as he sent the man reeling. He dodged another truncheon, shot his hands out to seize the officer who'd kicked Julie; the man was turned away from him, issuing orders.
    A policeman behind Paul grabbed him, smashed the small of his back with a truncheon, and sent him flying forward. Paul's temple hit the curb, jarring and dazing him. He rolled over. His assailant crouched down to club him again. Paul drove a heavy shoe into the man's groin. The man reeled away.
    On hands and knees, Paul crawled to Julie. He pressed his mouth to hers frantically; felt the warmth of her breathing. He groaned with relief.
    When he raised his head he saw that bright blood from a cut on his cheek smeared her pale chin.
    Rough hands fastened on his neck and arms. He was dragged up, spun around. The policeman in charge fairly spat at him:
    'That's all, laddie-buck, I saw you assault an officer. You're for the clink, sure.'
    Struggling futilely -- there were three holding him now - Paul looked across the street and felt his stomach churn. Michael Radcliffe was gone.
    So was the camera.
    But he didn't go to jail. Instead, mysteriously, he was released after three hours. He went home from magistrate's court to the flat overlooking the Thames on Cheyne Walk, Chelsea. Julie was resting comfortably in bed.
    Philippa, the housemaid, was looking after the children, Joseph Shad Crown, called Shad, who was six, and Elizabeth Juliette, called Betsy, two.
    18
    Dreamers
    Paul sat beside the bed while Julie drowsed. Presently she opened her eyes; recognized him. 'You must think I'm a dreadful fool.'
    He bent to kiss her cheek, scrubbed clean of blood. 'I think you're a remarkably brave woman mixed up with other women who tend to do foolish things for a noble cause.' He kissed her mouth, long and sweetly; squeezed her hand. 'Sleep now.'
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    She murmured assent and turned her cheek into the pillow.
    Next morning, still baffled by the abrupt way he'd been set free, Paul was summoned from his office in Cecil Court to the owner's suite on the highest floor of the Light, in Fleet Street. A male secretary with an embalmed look ushered him into the opulent grotto in which Lord Yorke conducted his affairs.
    The proprietor was a short, round man, bald as an egg. Michael Radcliffe, married to his lordship's only child, had described him as having the eyes of a startled frog and the disposition of a cornered cobra.
    His lordship wasn't a likable man, but he paid well and looked after his employees with the fervor of a reformed Scrooge. Born Otto Hartstein, child of a Dublin rag-and-bone merchant, he'd bought his first provincial newspaper when he was twenty-two, and built it into a publishing