foolish? In the retrospect, the elements in him that had disturbed her
were less disquieting, his intellectual fascination was enhanced: and in
that very emancipation from cant and convention, characteristic of the
Order to which he belonged, had lain much of his charm. She had attracted
him as a woman, there was no denying that. He, who had studied and
travelled and known life in many lands, had discerned in her, Janet
Bumpus, some quality to make him desire her, acknowledge her as a
comrade! Tremblingly she exulted in the possession of that quality
--whatever it might be. Ditmar, too, had perceived it! He had not known
how to value it. With this thought came a flaming suggestion--Ditmar
should see her with this man Rolfe, she would make him scorch with the
fires of jealousy. Ditmar should know that she had joined his enemies,
the Industrial Workers of the World. Of the world! Her shackles had been
cast off at last!... And then, suddenly, she felt tired. The prospect of
returning to Fillmore Street, to the silent flat--made the more silent by
her mother's tragic presence--overwhelmed her. The ache in her heart
began to throb again. How could she wait until the dawn of another
day?...

In the black hours of the morning, with the siren dinning in her ears a
hoarse call to war, Janet leaped from her bed and began to dress. There
is a degree of cold so sharp that it seems actually to smell, and as she
stole down the stairs and out of the door she shivered, assailed by a
sense of loneliness and fear. Yet an insistent voice urged her on,
whispering that to remain at home, inactive, was to go mad; salvation and
relief lay in plunging into the struggle, in contributing her share
toward retribution and victory. Victory! In Faber Street the light of the
electric arcs tinged the snow with blue, and the flamboyant
advertisements of breakfast foods, cigarettes and ales seemed but the
mockery of an activity now unrealizable. The groups and figures scattered