requested to sign the "Roster" and give their addresses, so that they
might be kept in touch with the movement. The "Roster" was a very
handsome gilt-edged, blue levatine-bound book, which was carried about
in the crowded room by a footman, another man carrying a gold inkstand
and pen.

The stranger beside Milly murmured in her ear,--

"So Society has taken up the Cause!"

"I'm afraid," Milly replied with an arch smile, "you don't take us quite
seriously."

"Don't think it for one moment!" he retorted. "I don't believe I have
ever taken anything so seriously in all my life as Women."

"In what way?"

"In every way."

He resumed in a moment, more seriously,--

"Frankly, I don't believe much is accomplished for your Cause by this
sort of thing!"

His gesture included comprehensively the gorgeous room, the gorgeous
assembly of socially elect, the speakers, and the liveried servants who
were now approaching their corner with the "Roster."

"But you have to start things somehow," Milly rejoined, remembering
Hazel's arguments. "Social prestige counts in everything."

"Is that what you need--social prestige?... I don't believe one of those
women who talked, including the poet, ever earned a dollar in her life!"
and with a glance about the room he added, "nor any woman in this room."

"Oh, yes--I have myself!" Milly replied promptly and proudly.

The man looked at her sharply.

"And that doesn't make any difference," she continued with a superior
air; "you men are always trying to bring things down to dollars and
cents."

"You'll admit it's a tangible basis of discussion."

"I've no doubt if they only had their rights many of them ought to be
paid a great deal for what they've done for you men."

"I mean that not one has ever done anything really productive in her
life--has added anything to the world's supply of necessities," he
continued with masculine arrogance.

"Oh?" Milly protested.

"Not even children!" he added triumphantly, and glanced at the names on
his programme. "I don't believe they could produce a child among 'em."

Milly knew that the women speakers of the evening happened all to be
childless women. One of them was not married, another was a widow, a
third separated from her husband, and of the others at least
one--Hazel--had deliberately evaded maternity.

"That may not be their fault!" Milly retorted with meaning.

"True," the man admitted. "But I'd like to hear something on the
qu