“You feel you must beat that drum,” he suggested. “Beat it louder and louder and louder till all the world shall hear it.” The old fanatic’s eyes passed from face to face. There was almost the suggestion of a smile about the savage mouth.!

“You think it would prove a useful alliance?” she suggested. “Ask Phillips to come and see me,” he said. “I can be of more help, if I know exactly his views.”

“I like the houses, too,” he said. “There’s a character about them. You don’t often find such fine drawing-rooms in London.” Joan felt a flush mount to her face. She had forgotten Hilda for the instant. She had reached a neighbourhood of narrow, crowded streets. The women were mostly without hats; and swarthy men, rolling cigarettes, lounged against doorways. The place had a quaint foreign flavour. Tiny cafés, filled with smoke and noise, and clean, inviting restaurants abounded. She was feeling hungry, and, choosing one the door of which stood open, revealing white tablecloths and a pleasant air of cheerfulness, she entered. It was late and the tables were crowded. Only at one, in a far corner, could she detect a vacant place, opposite to a slight, pretty-looking girl very quietly dressed. She made her way across and the girl, anticipating her request, welcomed her with a smile. They ate for a while in silence, divided only by the narrow table, their heads, when they leant forward, almost touching. Joan noticed the short, white hands, the fragrance of some delicate scent. There was something odd about her. She seemed to be unnecessarily conscious of being alone. Suddenly she spoke.