r their
keep.'

'You complain that more and more we're taking away from you men the work
that's always been yours. You can't any longer keep woman out of the
industries. The only question is, on what terms shall she continue to be
in? As long as she's in on bad terms, she's not only hurting herself,
she's hurting you. But if you're feeling discouraged about our competing
with you, we're willing to leave you your trade in war. Let the men take
life! We _give_ life!' Her voice was once more moved and proud. 'No one
will pretend ours isn't one of the dangerous trades either. I won't say
any more to you now, because we've got others to speak to you, and a new
woman helper that I want you to hear.'

With an accompaniment of clapping she retired to hold a hurried
consultation with the chairman.

Jean turned to see how Geoffrey had taken it. 'Well?'

He smiled down at her, echoing, 'Well?'

'Nothing so _very_ reprehensible in what she said, was there?'

'Oh, "reprehensible"!'

'It makes one rather miserable all the same.'

He pressed his guardian arm the closer. 'You mustn't take it as much to
heart as all that.'

'I can't help it. I can't indeed, Geoffrey. I shall _never_ be able to
make a speech like that.'

He stared, considerably taken aback. 'I hope not indeed.'

'Why? I thought you said you wanted me to----'

'To make nice little speeches with composure? So I did. So I do----' as
he looked down upon the upturned face he seemed to lose his thread.

She was for helping him to recover it. 'Don't you remember how you
said----'

'That you have very pink cheeks? Well, I stick to it.'

She smiled. 'Sh! Don't tell everybody.'

'And you're the only female creature----'

'That's a most proper sentiment.'

'The only one I ever saw who didn't look a fright in motor things.'

'I'm glad you don't think me a fright. Oh!'--she turned at the sound of
applause--'we're forgetting all about----'

A big sandy man, not hitherto seen, was rolling his loose-knit body up
and down the platform, smiling at the people and mopping a great bony
skull, on which, low down, a few scanty wisps of colourless hair were
growing.

'If you can't afford a bottle of Tatcho,' a boy called out, 'w'y don't
you get yer 'air cut?'

He just shot out one hand and wagged it in grotesque greeting, not in
the least discomposed.

'I've been addressin' a big meetin' at 'Ammersmith this morning, and
w'en I told 'em I wus comin' 'ere this awfte