n breath.

'I see,' said Victoria, 'but how is the vote going to help?'

'Help,' echoed Miss Welkin. 'It will help because it will enable women
to have a voice in national affairs.'

'You must think me awfully stupid,' said Victoria sweetly, 'but what use
will it be to us if we do get a voice in national affairs?'

Miss Welkin ignored the interruption.

'It is wrong that we should not have a vote if we are reasonable beings;
we can be teachers, doctors, chemists, factory inspectors, business
managers, writers; we can sit on local authorities, and we can't cast a
vote for a member of Parliament. It's preposterous, it's . . .'

'Yes, I understand, but what will the vote do for us? Will it raise
wages?'

'It must raise wages. Men's wages have risen a lot since they got the
vote.'

'Do you think that's because they got the vote?'

'Yes. Well, partly. At any rate there are things above wages,' said the
suffragist excitedly. 'And you know, we know that the vote is wanted
especially because it is an education; by inducing women to take an
interest in politics we will broaden their minds, teach them to combine
and then automatically their wages will rise.'

'Oh, yes.' Victoria was rather struck by the argument. 'Then,' she said,
'you admit men are superior to women?'

'Well, yes, at any rate at present,' said the suffragist rather sulkily.
'But you must remember that men have had nearly eighty years training in
political affairs. That's why we want the vote; to wake women up. Oh,
you have no idea what it will mean when we get it. We shall have fresh
minds bearing on political problems, we shall have more adequate
protection for women and children, compulsory feeding, endowment of
mothers, more education, shorter hours, more sanitary inspection. We
shall not be enslaved by parties; a nobler influence, the influence of
pure women will breathe an atmosphere of virtue into this terrible
world.'

The woman's eyes were rapt now, her hands tightly clenched, her lips
parted, her cheeks a little flushed. But Victoria's face had hardened
suddenly.

'Miss Welkin,' she said quietly, 'has anything struck you about this
house, about me?'

The suffragist looked at her uneasily.

'You ought to know whom you are talking to,' Victoria went on, 'I am a
. . . I am a what you would probably call . . . well, not respectable.'

A dull red flush spread over Miss Welkin's face, from the line of her
tightly pulled hair to her stiff