ause he considered political expediency. She realized that she must
think for herself now and not rely on him for the family celebration.
She had conceived her whole duty in life to consist in being George's
wife; but now, by a series of accidents, she had become aware of the
great social responsibilities, the larger human issues, which men and
women must meet together.

Betty and E. Eliot had pointed out to her that she knew nothing of the
conditions in her own town. They assured her that it was as much her
duty to know about such things as to know the condition of her own back
yard.

Then came the awful revelations of Kentwood--human beings huddled
like rats; children swarming, dirty and hungry! She could not bear to
remember the scenes she had witnessed in Kentwood.

She recalled the shock of Alys Brewster-Smith's indifference to all that
misery! The widow's one instinct had seemed to be to fight E. Eliot and
the health officer for their interference. Stranger still, the tenants
did not want to be moved out, driven on. The whole situation was
confused, but in it at least one thing stood out clearly: Genevieve
realized, during the sleepless night after her visit to Kentwood, that
she hated Cousin Alys!

The following Sunday, when she put on her coat, she found a souvenir
of that visit in her pocket, a soiled reminder of poverty and toil. She
remembered picking it up and noting that it was the factory pass of
one Marya Slavonsky. She had intended to leave it with some one in the
district, but evidently in the excitement of her enforced exit she had
thrust it into her pocket.

This Marya worked in the factories. She was one of that grimy army
Genevieve had seen coming out of the factory gate, and she went home to
that pen which Cousin Alys provided. Marya was a girl of Genevieve's
own age, perhaps, while she, Genevieve, had this comfortable home, and
George! She had been blind, selfish, but she would make up for it, she
_would_! She would make a study of the needs of such people; she would
go among them like St. Agatha, scattering alms and wisdom. George might
have his work; she had found hers! She would begin with the factory
girls. She would waken them to what had so lately dawned on her. How
could she manage it? The rules of admission in the munition factories
were very strict.

Then again her eye fell upon the soiled card and a great idea was born
in her brain. Dressed as a factory girl, she would use Marya's