ution," he said.

"Choose your own time," she answered mildly. "Here every day we are
facing a far worse thing."

"Making it endurable," he objected. "These people are patient because of
you and your like."

"Impatience would only make it harder for them," she returned. "You
can't argue with them; they haven't the brains."

"Not in working order, I admit."

"Meanwhile they have to live."

"And when you help them to that end--are they at all grateful?"

"A few; yes, that is one of the hardest things we have to bear,--we who
are living stolen lives; for whether we will it or not our vitality
comes from them; daily we drain it from their blood, and nothing we can
do will stop it."

"Are you in need of money?"

"Always; but five million pounds given us to-morrow would not go to the
root of this."

"What would?"

"Nothing but true worship."

"You worship an alibi," said Max.

"What nearer divinity has brought you here?" she inquired. And he, too
conscious of the personal motive, forbore to explain.

At their fifth meeting she told him quite frankly that he was
interfering with her work, that she could not have him accompanying her,
waiting for her, picking her up as if by chance.

"If you want to do work you must find it for yourself; you will if you
are sincere," she said in answer to his request that she would
commission him.

"But may I not be your follower?" he pleaded, choosing the word for its
double sense.

"Lay sisters don't have followers," she replied. "They don't go with the
costume."

"Then why wear it? Will you turn away a disciple for a mere matter of
dress?"

"My dress," she said, "is of more use and protection to me than anything
you can do or than money can buy. You have politicians who say that
society is built upon force. My dress is the work of women; thousands of
lives have made it what it is, and it will take me safely into slums
where no policeman dare go alone. When your politicians can come here in
coats of a similar make, then they will have begun to solve the problems
which they are so fond of talking about. Now, will you please to walk on
the other side of the road?"

He took her hand, saying earnestly, "When are we to meet again?"

She shook her head at him, smiling. "Truthfully I haven't time for you,"
she said, "and I can't make promises."

And then, just for once--for it seemed his last chance--Max fell into
sentiment.

"One I want you to make," he insisted.