paused, as if, after all, she lacked the courage. Cleggett said
nothing. He was too fine in grain to force a confidence. After a
moment she continued: "I can tell you this," she said, with a
catch in her voice that was almost a sob, "that I am practically
friendless. When you call a taxicab for me in a few moments, and
I leave you, with Elmer and my boxes, I shall have no place to
go."

"But, surely, madam----"

"Do not call me madam. Call me Lady Agatha. I am Lady Agatha
Fairhaven. What is your name?"

Cleggett told her.

"You have heard of me?" asked Lady Agatha.

Cleggett was obliged to confess that he had not. He thought that
a shade of disappointment passed over the lady's face, but in a
moment she smiled and remarked:

"How relative a thing is fame! You have never heard of me! And
yet I can assure you that I am well enough known in England. I
was one of the very first militant suffragettes to break a
window--if not the very first. The point is, indeed, in dispute.

And were it not for my devotion to the cause I would not now be
in my present terrible plight--doomed to wander from pillar to
post with that thing" (she pointed with a shudder to the box into
which Elmer was still gloomily poking ice)-"chained to me like