ugher and huskier voices. Lesley gathered that some proposition had
been made which he was combating.

"No," he said, "I won't have it. Look here--did you open this club, or
did I?"

"You did, guv'nor," said one of the men.

"Then I'll have my say in the management. Some of you want the women
turned out, do you? It's the curse of modern life, the curse of English
and all other society, that you do want the women turned out, you men,
where-ever you go. And the reason is that women are better than you are.
They are purer, nobler, more conscientious than you, and therefore you
don't want them with you when you take your pleasures. Eh?"

There was a melodious geniality about the last monosyllable which made
the men smile in spite of themselves.

"'T'ain't that," said one of them, awkwardly. "It's because they're apt
to neglect their 'omes if they come out of an afternoon or an evening
like we do."

"Not they!" said Mr. Brooke. "To come out now and then is to make them
love their homes, man. They'll put more heart in to their work, if they
have a little rest and enjoyment now and then, as you do.
Besides--you've got hold of a wrong principle. The women are not your
slaves and servants; they ought not to be. They are your companions,
your helpers. The more they are in sympathy with you, the better they
will help you. Don't keep your wives out of the brighter moments of your
lives, else they will forget how to feel with you, and help you when
darker moments come!"

There was a pause; and then a man, with rather a sullen face--evidently
one of the malcontents--said, with a growl,

"Fine talk, gov'nor. It'll end in our wives leaving us, like they say
yours done."

There was an instant hiss and groan of disapproval. So marked, indeed,
that the man rose to shoulder his way to the door. Evidently he was not
a popular character.

"We'll pay him out, if you like, sir," said a youth; and some of the
older men half rose as if to execute the threat.

"Sit down: let him alone," said Mr. Brooke, sharply. "He's a poor fool,
and he knows it. Every man's a fool that does not reverence women. And
if women would try to be worthy of that reverence, the world would be
better than it is."

He rose as he spoke, with apparent carelessness, but those who knew him
best saw that the taunt had stung him. And as he moved, he caught
Lesley's eye. He had not known that she was to be there; and by
something in her expression--by her heighte