"I hear you have eight or ten thousand a year and can do what you like with
it. And you cannot be more than twenty-three.... What a responsibility it
must be for you! You are a friend of Miss Ingate's and therefore on our
side. Indeed, if a woman such as you were not on our side, I wonder whom
we _could_ count on. Miss Ingate is, of course, a subscriber to the
Union--"

"Only a very little one," cried Miss Ingate.

Audrey had never felt so abashed since an ex-parlourmaid at Flank Hall, who
had left everything to join the Salvation Army, had asked her once in the
streets of Colchester whether she had found salvation. She knew that she,
if any one, ought to subscribe to the Suffragette Union, and to subscribe
largely. For she was a convinced suffragette by faith, because Miss Ingate
was a convinced suffragette. If Miss Ingate had been a Mormon, Audrey also
would have been a Mormon. And, although she hated to subscribe, she knew
also that if Rosamund demanded from her any subscription, however
large--even a thousand pounds--she would not know how to refuse. She felt
before Rosamund as hundreds of women, and not a few men, had felt.

"I may be leaving for Germany to-morrow," Rosamund proceeded. "I may not
see you again--at any rate for many weeks. May I write to London that you
mean to support us?"

Audrey was giving herself up for lost, and not without reason. She
foreshadowed a future of steely self-sacrifice, propaganda, hammers, riots,
and prison; with no self-indulgence in it, no fine clothes, no art, and no
young men save earnest young men. She saw herself in the iron clutch of her
own conscience and sense of duty. And she was frightened. But at that