clear and audible speakers. Women are."

"Next Friday? Yes, I can come up that night. Are you taking the chair,
or seconding the resolution, or anything like that?"

"Me? Mercy, no!" gasped Ellen. Had he really been taken in by her bluff
that she was grown-up? For she had a feeling, which she would never
admit even to herself but which came to her nearly every day, that she
was a truant child masquerading in long skirts, and that at any moment
someone might come and with the bleak unanswerable authority of a
schoolmistress order her back to her short frocks and the class-room.
But this was nonsense, for she really was grown-up. She was seventeen
past and earning. "No. I'll be stewarding and selling literature."

"Good." He handed her half-a-crown and took the ticket from her, folded
it across, hesitated, and asked appealingly: "I say, hadn't you better
write your name on this? I once went to a Suffrage meeting in Glasgow
and they wouldn't let me in because they thought I looked the sort of
person who would interrupt. But if you wrote your name on my ticket
they'll know I'm all right." He gave her a pencil-stump, and as she
wrote reflected: "How do I come to be such a fluent liar? I didn't get
it from my mother. No, not from my mother. I suppose my father had that
vice as well as the others. But why am I taking so much trouble to find
out about this little girl--I who don't care a damn about anything or
anybody?"

* * * * *

He smiled when he took back the card, and with some difficulty, for she
had tried to impart an impressive frenzy to her round hand, read her