and joined the golf-club, than Jeanne
and Jimmie on all Long Island no couple were so content.

At that time Proctor Maddox was the young and brilliant editor of the
_Wilderness_ magazine, the wilderness being the world we live in, and
the Voice crying in it the voice of Proctor Maddox. He was a Socialist
and Feminist, he flirted with syndicalism, and he had a good word even
for the I.W.W. He was darkly handsome, his eyeglasses were fastened to a
black ribbon, and he addressed his hostess as "dear lady." He was that
sort. Women described him as "dangerous," and liked him because he
talked of things they did not understand, and because he told each of
them it was easy to see it would be useless to flatter _her_. The men
did not like him. The oldest and wealthiest members of the club
protested that the things Maddox said in his magazine should exclude him
from the society of law-abiding, money-making millionaires. But Freddy
Bayliss, the leader of the younger crowd, said that, to him, it did not
matter what Maddox said in the _Wilderness_, so long as he stayed there.
It was Bayliss who christened him "the Voice."

Until the Voice came to Glen Cove all that troubled Jeanne was that her
pony had sprained a tendon, and that in the mixed doubles her eye was
off the ball. Proctor Maddox suggested other causes for discontent.

"What does it matter," he demanded, "whether you hit a rubber ball
inside a whitewashed line, or not? That energy, that brain, that
influence of yours over others, that something men call--charm, should
be exerted to emancipate yourself and your unfortunate sisters."

"Emaciate myself," protested Jeanne eagerly; "do you mean I'm taking on
flesh?"

"I said 'emancipate,'" corrected Maddox. "I mean to free yourself of the
bonds that bind your sex; for instance, the bonds of matrimony. It is
obsolete, barbarous. It makes of women--slaves and chattels."

"But, since I married, I'm _much_ freer," protested Jeanne. "Mother
never let me play polo, or ride astride. But Jimmie lets me. He says
cross saddle is safer."

"Jimmie _lets_ you!" mocked the Voice. "_That_ is exactly what I mean.
Why should you go to him, or to any man, for permission? Are you his
cook asking for an evening out? No! You are a free soul, and your duty
is to keep your soul from bondage. There are others in the world besides
your husband. What of your duty to them? Have you ever thought of them?"

"No, I have not," confessed Jeanne. "W