initiator was passionately describing to her the
misery of the Calabrian peasantry; and she sat
listening silently, her chin resting on one hand
and her eyes on the ground. To Arthur she
seemed a melancholy vision of Liberty mourning
for the lost Republic. (Julia would have seen in
her only an overgrown hoyden, with a sallow complexion,
an irregular nose, and an old stuff frock
that was too short for her.)

"You here, Jim!" he said, coming up to her
when the initiator had been called to the other end
of the room. "Jim" was a childish corruption of
her curious baptismal name: Jennifer. Her Italian
schoolmates called her "Gemma."

She raised her head with a start.

"Arthur! Oh, I didn't know you--belonged
here!"

"And I had no idea about you. Jim, since when
have you----?"

"You don't understand!" she interposed
quickly. "I am not a member. It is only that
I have done one or two little things. You see, I
met Bini--you know Carlo Bini?"

"Yes, of course." Bini was the organizer of the