after all we haven't any better word to express dynamic desires. She'd
keep you stirred up, stimulated, and you could educate her."

"No, thanks, I'll leave that to you. He who educates a woman is lost. But
how about Syndicalism and all the mysticism that goes with it? There's an
intellectual over at Headquarters who's been talking to her about
Bergson, the life-force, and the World-We-Ourselves-Create."

Mrs. Maturin laughed.

"Well, we go wrong when we don't go right. That's just it, we must go
some way. And I'm sure, from what I gather, that she isn't wholly
satisfied with Syndicalism."

"What is right?" demanded Insall.

"Oh, I don't intend to turn her over to Mr. Worrall and make a
sociologist and a militant suffragette out of her. She isn't that kind,
anyhow. But I could give her good literature to read--yours, for
instance," she added maliciously.

"You're preposterous, Augusta," Insall exclaimed.

"I may be, but you've got to indulge me. I've taken this fancy to her
--of course I mean to see more of her. But--you know how hard it is for
me, sometimes, since I've been left alone."

Insall laid his hand affectionately on her shoulder.

"I remember what you said the first day I saw her, that the strike was in