barton started and reddened. 'Something very weighty, to judge
from----'

'I believe I was thinking it was rather odd to hear two men like my
uncle and Mr. Stonor talking about the influence of the Suffrage women
really quite seriously. _Oh!_'--she clutched Mrs. Freddy's arm, laughing
apologetically--'I beg your pardon. I forgot. Besides, I wasn't thinking
of your kind; I was thinking of the Suffragettes.'

'As the only conceivable ones to be exercising any influence. Thank
you.'

'Oh, no, no. Indeed, I didn't mean----'

'Yes, you did. You're like the rest. You don't realize how we prepared
the ground. All the same,' she went on, with her unfailing good humour,
'it's frightfully exciting seeing the Question come into practical
politics at last. I only hope those women won't go and upset the
apple-cart again.'

'How?'

'Oh, by doing something that will alienate all our good friends in both
parties. It's queer they can't see our only chance to get what we want
is by winning over the men.'

There was a low sound of impatience from the person at the
writing-table, and a rustle of paper as the plan was thrown down.

'What's the matter?' said Mrs. Freddy.

'"Winning over the men" has been the woman's way since the Creation. Do
you think the result should make us proud of our policy? Yes? Then go
and walk in Piccadilly at midnight.'

Lady John and Mrs. Heriot rose as one, while Miss Levering was adding--

'No, I forgot----'

'Yes,' interposed Mrs. Heriot, with majesty, 'it is not the first time
you've forgotten.'

'What I forgot was the magistrate's ruling. He said no decent woman had
any business to be in London's main thoroughfares at night "_unless she
has a man with her_." You can hear that in Soho, too. "You're obliged to
take up with a chap!" is what the women say.'

In a highly significant silence, Mrs. Heriot withdrew with her niece and
Mrs. Freddy to where Hermione sat contentedly between two young men on
the window-step. Lady John, naturally somewhat ruffled, but still quite
kind, bent over her indiscreet guest to say--

'What an odd mood you are in to-day, my dear. I think Lydia Heriot's
right. We oughtn't to do anything, or _say_ anything to encourage this
ferment of feminism--and I'll tell you why: it's likely to bring a very
terrible thing in its train.'

'What terrible thing?'

'Sex-Antagonism.'

'It's here.'

'Don't say that!' Lady John spoke very gravely.

'You're so conscious it's