o go quite alone to strange churches, where for a
moment the burden of the self had seemed lightened. But the old things
were not always congenial to her, and there were modern ferments at work
in her. No one of her family, unless it were Agnes, suspected what was
going on. But in truth the rich crude nature had been touched at last,
as Robert's had been long ago in Mr. Grey's lecture-room, by the
piercing under-voices of things--the moral message of the world. 'What
will he have to say?' she asked herself again feverishly, and as she
looked across to Mr. Flaxman she felt a childish wish to be friends
again with him, with everybody. Life was too difficult as it was,
without quarrels and misunderstandings to make it worse.

CHAPTER XL

A long street of warehouses--and at the end of it the horses slackened.

'I saw the president of the club yesterday,' said Flaxman, looking out.
'He is an old friend of mine--a most intelligent fanatic--met him on a
Mansion House Fund committee last winter. He promised we should be
looked after. But we shall only get back seats, and you'll have to put
up with the smoking. They don't want ladies, and we shall only be there
on sufferance.'

The carriage stopped. Mr. Flaxman guided his charges with some
difficulty through the crowd about the steps, who inspected them and
their vehicle with a frank and not over-friendly curiosity. At the door
they found a man who had been sent to look for them, and were
immediately taken possession of. He ushered them into the back of a
large bare hall, glaringly lit, lined with white brick, and hung at
intervals with political portraits and a few cheap engravings of famous
men, Jesus of Nazareth taking his turn with Buddha, Socrates, Moses,
Shakespeare, and Paul of Tarsus.

'Can't put you any forrarder, I'm afraid,' said their guide, with a
shrug of the shoulders. 'The committee don't like strangers coming, and
Mr. Collett, he got hauled over the coals for letting you in this
evening.'

It was a new position for Lady Charlotte to be anywhere on sufferance.
However, in the presence of three hundred smoking men, who might all of
them be political assassins in disguise for anything she knew, she
accepted her fate with meekness; and she and Rose settled themselves
into their back seat under a rough sort of gallery, glad of their veils,
and nearly blinded with the smoke.

The hall was nearly full, and Mr. Flaxman looked curiously round upon
its oc