grew hot and quivered. The lady on
the sofa lowered her eyes.

'They must be taught,' the other said sternly, 'the police must be
taught, they are not to treat our women like that. On the whole the
police behave well. But their power is immense and almost entirely
unchecked. It's a marvel they are as decent as they are. How should
_they_ be expected to know how to treat women? What example do they
have? Don't they hear constantly in the courts how little it costs a man
to be convicted of beating his own wife?' She fired the questions at the
innocent person on the sofa, as if she held her directly responsible for
the need to ask them. 'Stealing is far more dangerous; yes, even if a
man's starving. That's because bread is often dear and women are always
cheap.'

She waited a moment, waited for the other to contradict or at least
resent the dictum. The motionless figure among the sofa cushions, whose
very look and air seemed to proclaim 'some of us are expensive enough,'
hardly opened her lips to say, as if to herself--

'Yes, women are cheap.'

Perhaps Miss Claxton thought the agreement lacked conviction, for she
went on with a harsh hostility that seemed almost personal--

'We'd rather any day be handled by the police than by the
self-constituted stewards of political meetings.'

Partly the words, even more the look in the darkening face, made Miss
Levering say--

'That brings me to something else I wanted to be enlightened about. One
reason I wrote to ask for a little talk with _you_ specially, was
because I couldn't imagine your doing anything so futile as to pit your
physical strength--considerable as it may be--but to pit your muscle
against men's is merely absurd. And I, when I saw how intelligent you
were, I saw that you know all that quite as well as I. Why, then, carry
a whip?'

The lowered eyelids of the face opposite quivered faintly.

'You couldn't think it would save you from arrest.'

'No, not from arrest.' The woman's mouth hardened.

'I know'--Miss Levering bridged the embarrassment of the pause--'I know
there must be some rational explanation.'

But if there were it was not forthcoming.

'So you see your most indefensible and even futile-appearing action gave
the cue for my greatest interest,' said Vida, with a mixture of anxiety
and bluntness. 'For just the woman you were, to do so brainless a
thing--what was behind? That was what I kept asking myself.'

'It--isn't--only--_rough_ treat