"I've heard about that," he interposed eagerly, "though the French women
don't seem to care much. You wanted to vote? Well, why ever not?"

She gave him the brightest smile he had yet received.

"Oh, how nice of you!" she cried. "You really mean that?"

"Couldn't see it any other way. I've always liked and believed in women
more than men. I learnt that in childhood," he added, frowning.

"Splendid! I'm so glad," she responded. "You see, with our men it's
usually the other way round. My ideas were a great handicap at home."

"So you decided to leave?"

"Yes; I went to London and got a job teaching some children sums and
history--two hours every morning. In the afternoons I worked at stories
for the magazines, and placed a few, but they pay an unknown writer
horribly badly. I lived with an old lady as companion for two months, but
that was being a poor relation minus the relationship--I couldn't stand
it. I joined the Suffragists in London--not the Militants--I don't quite
see their point of view--and marched in a parade. Brother-in-law heard of
it, and wrote me I could not expect anything from them unless I stopped
it." She laughed quietly.

Stefan flushed. He pronounced something--conclusively--in French. Then
--"Don't ask me to apologize, Miss Elliston."

"I won't," reassuringly. "I felt rather like that, too. I wrote that I
didn't expect anything as it was. Then I sat down and thought about the