Miranda and I were between plays in Alan Aykbourn’s Norman Conquests trilogy. We had seen Table Manners at the unaccustomed hour of eleven-thirty in the morning, and we were to see Living Together at three-thirty and Round and Round the Garden at eight. We had just enough time for martinis and lunch. We were both in the mood for some traditional French country cooking, so we made our way to Pigalle, where we were seated near two women, one about fifty and the other about twenty.
    Before we had a chance to exchange a word about Table Manners, we found our attention diverted by the older of the two women, who said in an urgent tone, in a voice that she seemed to be struggling to control: “It’s a war. Make no mistake. It’s a war.”
    Miranda raised an eyebrow. I nodded nearly imperceptibly to acknowledge the raised eyebrow. We pretended to study our menus while we listened.
    “Whether it’s religion or politics,” Fifty continued, shaking her head, “the more they invoke ‘fundamentals’ or ‘tradition,’ or ‘conservative ideals’ the surer you can be that they hate women. A family to them, a traditional family, a homelife, you know what that is? It’s the man ruling with an iron fist.”
    Twenty picked at her frites.
    “A home? You know what that is? A castle for them, a dungeon for us. In the home, they own us. They rape us there, they beat us there, they even kill us there. They savor the sanctity of a man’s home.”
    Twenty sucked on the straw in her glass of juice. Fifty drank the last of her wine.
    “You have to learn to hear what they mean, not what they say. When they say they believe in family values, they mean they believe that marriage gives them the right to do whatever they want to us in the privacy of the home.”
    Twenty checked her cell phone for text messages.
    “When they say they respect women, they actually mean that they hate women,” said Fifty. “You see what I’m getting at?”
    “Mm-hm,” said Twenty.
    Fifty began ticking off items on the fingers of her right hand: “Genital mutilation, polygamy, the sexual objectification of very young girls, sex tourism, restricted access to education, restricted access to birth control . . . are you concerned about any of these things?”
    “Yes,” said Twenty, without looking up from her phone.
    “Are your friends?”
    “Yes.”
    “Are you texting them about these issues? Is that what you’re doing now?”
    “No.”
    “Am I the only person here who understands the full extent of this evil?”
    “No. You’re not. I understand.”
    “I hope you do, my darling daughter. I hope you do.”