lve. She grew
conscious of the lifting of all depression, all anxiety. Her conscience was
at rest. She had been thinking for more than a week past: "I ought to go to
London." How often had she not said to herself: "If any woman should be in
this movement, I should be in this movement. I am a coward as long as I
stay here, dallying my time away." Now the decision was made, absolutely.

The Oriental musical critic turned to glance upward behind his chair. Then
he vacated it. The next instant Madame Piriac was sitting in his place.

She said:

"Are you really going to London to-morrow, Madame?"

"Yes, Madame, really!" answered Audrey firmly, without the least
hesitation.

"How I regret it! For this reason. I wished so much to make your
acquaintance. I mean--to know you a little. You go perhaps in the
afternoon? Could you not do me the great pleasure of coming to lunch with
me? I inhabit the Quai Voltaire. It is all that is most convenient."

Audrey was startled and suspicious, but she could not deny the
persuasiveness of the invitation.

"Ah! Madame!" she said. "I know not at what hour we go. But even if it
should be in the afternoon there is the packing--you know--in a word...."

"Listen," Madame Piriac proceeded, bending even more intimately towards
her. "Be very, very kind. Come to see me to-night. Come in my car. I will
see that you reach the Rue Delambre afterwards."

"But Madame, we are at the Hotel du Danube. I have my own car. You are very
amiable."

Madame Piriac was a little taken aback.

"So much the better," she said, in a new tone. "The Hotel du Danube is
nearer still. But come in my car. Mademoiselle Ingate can return in yours.
Do not desolate me."

"Does she know who I am?" thought Audrey, and then: "What do I care if she
does?"

And she said aloud:

"Madame, it is I who would be desolated to deprive myself of this
pleasure."

A considerable period elapsed before they could leave, because of the
complex discussion concerning feminism which was delicately raging round
the edge of the table. The animation was acute, but it was purely
intellectual. The guests discussed the psychology of English suffragettes,
sympathetically, admiringly; they were even wonderstruck; yet they might
have been discussing the psychology of the ancient Babylonians, so perfect
was their detachment, so completely unclouded by any prejudice was their
desire to reach the truth. Many of the things which they imperturbab