ism of personal failure."

There was a terrible truth in this, and it drove straight into
Cargill's heart. Bradley was pleased to see Ida dominate a man who was
accustomed to master every one who came into his presence. There was a
look on her face which meant battle. She did not change her attitude of
graceful repose, but her face grew stern and accusing. Cargill looked
at her, wearing the same inscrutable expression of scowling attention;
but a slow flush, rising to his face, showed that he had been struck
hard.

There was a moment's pause full of intense interest to Bradley. The
combatants were dealing with each other oblivious of every one else.

"I admire you, friend Cargill," Ida went on, "but your attitude is not
right. Your influence upon young people is not good. You are always
crying out against things, but you never try to help. What are you
doing to help things?"

"Crying out against them," he replied, curtly.

Ida dropped her glance. "Yes, that's so; I'll admit that it has that
effect, or it would if you didn't talk of the hopelessness of trying to
do anything. Don't feel alarmed," she said, turning to the others, "Mr.
Cargill and I understand each other very well. We've known each other
so long that we can afford to talk plain."

"This is the first time she ever let into me so directly," Cargill
explained. "Understand we generally fight on literature, or music, or
the woman question. This really is the first encounter on my personal
influence. I'm going home to stanch my wounds." He rose, with a return
to his usual manner.

Ida made no effort to detain them. "Come and see me again, Mr. Talcott,
and don't let Mr. Cargill spoil you."

After leaving the house, the two men walked on a block in silence,
facing the wind, their overcoats drawn up about their ears.

"There's a woman I like," Cargill said, when they turned a corner and
were shielded from the bitter wind. "She can forget her sex
occasionally and become an intellect. Most women are morbid on their
sex. They can't seem to escape it, as a man does part of the time. They
can't rise, as this woman does, into the sexless region of affairs and
of thought."

Bradley lacked the courage to ask him to speak lower, and he went on.
"She's had suitors enough and flattery enough to turn her into a
simpering fashion-plate; but you can not spoil brains. What the women
want is not votes; it's brains, and less morbid emotions."

"She's a free woman?" sai