Maraton led her gently back to the chair in which she had been sitting.

"Now we must talk," he declared. "Sit opposite to me there."

He struck a match and lit the lamp of a little coffee machine which
stood upon the table. She sprang eagerly to her feet.

"Let me, please," she begged. "I understand those things. Please let
me make the coffee."

He laughed and, going to the cabinet, brought another of the old blue
china cups and saucers. With very deft fingers she manipulated the
machine. Presently, when her task was finished, she sat back in her
chair, her coffee cup in her hand, her great eyes fixed upon him. She
had the air of a person entirely content.

"So you are Julia Thurnbrein."

"And you," she replied, still with that note of suppressed yet
passionate reverence in her tone, "are Maraton."

He smiled.

"The women workers of the world owe you a great deal," he said.

"But it is so little that one can do," she answered, quivering with
pleasure at his words. "One needs inspiration, direction. Now that you
have come, it will be different; it will be wonderful!"