din, she moved across the room.

"It is atrocious!" she cried, as she reached Sabina. "I hope you have
not heard a word he said!"

"When a man has such a voice as that, it is impossible not to hear
him," said Malipieri, rising and answering before Sabina had time to
speak.

Sabina rose, too, rather reluctantly.

"And of course you agreed with everything he said," the Baroness
replied. "All anarchists do!"

"I beg your pardon. I do not agree with him at all, and I am really
not an anarchist."

He smiled politely, and Sabina noticed with an unaccountable little
thrill of satisfaction that the smile was quite different from the one
she had seen in his face more than once while they had been talking
together. As for the deputy's discourse, she had not heard a word of
it.

The Baroness sat down on the sofa, and Sabina slipped away. She was
not supposed to be in society yet, as she was not quite eighteen, and
there was certainly no reason why she should stay in the drawing-room
that evening, while there were many reasons why she should go away.
The Baroness breathed an audible sigh of relief when she was gone, for
it was never possible to predict what some excited politician might
say before her in the heat of argument.