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Author: Cynthia Harrod-Eagles
Quotes of Author: Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

Cynthia Harrod-Eagles _ Kate's Progress
She ate up London and spat it out, and now she's recharging her batteries in Bursford before going back into the fray,' Jack said.
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Cynthia Harrod-Eagles _ The Restless Sea
Asquith, in the House, had shocked many people by opposing the franchise for women on the grounds that woman was not the female of the human species but a distinct and inferior species of her own, and disqualified from voting in the same way that a rabbit was disqualified. When it was reported there were angry letters and much protest in the press, together with several satirical cartoons about the lapine origins of various public figures. Someone commented that Asquith's 'rabbit theory' made it difficult to vote Liberal and then look the women of one's household in the face.
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Cynthia Harrod-Eagles _ The Dancing Years
I could refer you to a colleague who specialises in such things – or, as it happens, a clinic has just opened in Holloway to advise on birth control and dispense devices. You might find that more anonymous. Have you heard of Marie Stopes?' 'Didn't she write a book? I seem to remember something – didn't she say that women and men should be equal in marriage? It sounded rather sensible to me.' 'She believes that a woman cannot be free unless she has control over her own body, which must include contraception. No-one would publish the book before the war, but since it came out – what is it? Two years ago – there has been no action against her or the publisher, so I think we can take it that she has opened this clinic with some confidence.
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Cynthia Harrod-Eagles _ The Devil's Horse
True, Mama, but he'll find it a difficult job to govern the country with nothing but the High Tories to support him. And whatever you think of their politics, Huskisson and Palmerston are very able men the country can ill afford to lose. William Lamb was doing a good job in Ireland, too.' 'Poor William Lamb,' Lucy said - his name always seemed to couple itself with the epithet quite automatically. 'He needs office to keep his mind from his domestic troubles.' 'Sendin' him to Ireland was goin' rather too far, though,' Theakston commented solemnly. 'No good cuttin' off a man's head to cure him of a headache.' 'Well, he'd have been back soon enough anyway,' said Lucy. 'That drunken ruin of a father of his can't last much longer, and then he'll be taking his seat in the Lords as Lord Melbourn.' 'His sister thinks he'll be Prime Minister one day,' said her husband. 'Said so to Mrs Arbuthnot yesterday.' Lucy was dismissive. 'She would say something like that! I can't bear Emily Cowper at any price,' she said impatiently; and then, 'Where did you see Mrs Arbuthnot?
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Cynthia Harrod-Eagles _ The Question
Instead, the Daily Mail's editor picked out only the 'brightest' items of news, digested them, and rewrote them so as to turn them into 'stories'. These always had to be short, strongly prejudiced in some direction, and either sentimental or sensational. The headlines were calculated to provoke, rather than merely to suggest what the paragraph was about; scandals and crime figured largely in its pages, and for preference there must always be some figure of hatred set up like a guy to be knocked down. It was a whole new concept of journalism, and it had met with severe disapproval from the penny broadsheets and those who read them. The idea was not to inform but to entertain, to tickle the palate and play on the prejudices of the domestic servant and the junior clerk, of that whole mass of the
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Cynthia Harrod-Eagles _ The Question
Of course one has to give diplomacy a chance, but it would be better for us, if we are going to have to fight them, for the Cabinet to start now before the Boers are ready for us.' 'Well, public opinion is all for war, for what that's worth.' 'The Cabinet would never be swayed by public opinion.' 'Perhaps not, but with that dreadful newspaper whipping people up into a blood lust, we shall have demonstrations in the street before long if we don't go to war.' 'Dreadful newspaper? You mean the Daily Mail, I conclude?' 'It shouldn't even be called a newspaper!' Charlotte said wrathfully. 'It doesn't report the news at all, it – it makes it up!
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Cynthia Harrod-Eagles _ The Question
The Yorkshire was something of a landmark, and facing it across the river was another, Botterill's Horse Repository, a startling and ornate building in red and yellow brick. Here the gentlemen who rode or drove into York could leave their horses. The stalls were arranged on several storeys, with ramps leading up from floor to floor – the equine equivalent, Teddy supposed, of one of those new blocks of 'flats' one heard about in London – and if York grew any more crowded, they would all end up living on top of each other, like the horses, he thought."
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Cynthia Harrod-Eagles _ The Regency
The former Mary Loveday was a thin woman in whose face any youthful beauty she may have possessed had been extinguished by years and unhappiness. There were unbecoming shadows around her eyes, two lines of discontent drew down her mouth corners, and her skin had the dry and unnourished look of a woman without a lover. Her
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Cynthia Harrod-Eagles _ Gone Tomorrow
Crafty Collins took up with him. You wouldn't have thought they had a thing in common. I mean, Crafty, he had enough upstairs. He wasn't stupid by many a long mile. But this Bates bloke, he was college educated and everything. Smart as a whip. Well, he
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Cynthia Harrod-Eagles _ The Foreign Field
somewhere, waiting for you. Nothing is ever lost.
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Cynthia Harrod-Eagles _ The Flood-Tide
Father Ramsay smiled his sphingine smile. 'You know my opinion of buttermilk,' he said. 'I'll wait for the ale.
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Cynthia Harrod-Eagles _ Killing Time
Joanna had the fisherman's pie. 'What's under the mashed potato?' Slider asked. Joanna chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then looked down. 'Something white,' she said at last. 'With little bits of something pink.' She chewed again. 'I am eating, aren't I?' she appealed for reassurance. 'It's so hard to tell without some sensory input, like taste or texture.
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