Lilli Vergoe was proud of such a catechumen, and made haste to introduce her to the tall house in Mecklenburg Square, whose elm-shadowed rooms displayed the sober glories of the Women's Political, Social and Economic League. Something about the house reminded Jenny of her first visit to Madame Aldavini's School; but she found Miss Bailey less alarming than the dancing mistress as, rising from masses of letters and scarlet gladioli, she welcomed the candidate. Miss Bailey, the president of the League, was a tall, handsome woman, very unlike Jenny's conception of a suffragette. She had a regular profile, a thin, high-bridged nose, and clearly cut, determined lips. Her complexion was pale, her hair very brown and rich. Best of all Jenny liked her slim hands and the voice which, though marred by a slight huskiness due to public speaking, was full of quality and resonance. She was one of those women who, carrying in their presence a fine tranquillity at once kindly and ascetic, imbue the onlooker with their long and perceptive experience of humanity. She was in no sense homely or motherly; indeed, she wore about her the remoteness of the great. Yet whatever in her general appearance seemed of marble was vivified by clear hazel eyes into the reality of womanhood. "And so you're going to join our club?" inquired Miss Bailey. Jenny, although she had intended this first visit to be merely empirical, felt bound to commit herself to the affirmative. "You'll soon know all about our objects." "Oh, I've told her a lot already, Miss Bailey," declared Lilli with the eagerness of the trusted school-girl. "That's right," said Miss Bailey, smiling. "Come along then, and I will enroll you, Miss----" "Pearl," murmured Jenny, feeling as if her name had somehow slipped down and escaped sideways through her neck. Then with an effort clearing her throat, she added, "Jenny Pearl," blushing furiously at the confession of identity. "Your address?" "Better say 17 Hagworth Street, Islington. Only I'm not living there just now. Now I'm living 43 Stacpole Terrace, Camden Town." "Have you a profession?" "I'm on the stage." "What a splendid profession, too--for a woman. Don't you think so?" Jenny stared at this commendation of a state of life she had always imagined was distasteful to people like Miss Bailey. "I don't know much about splendid, but I suppose it's all right," she agreed at last. "Indeed it is. Are you at the Orient also?" "Yes, you know, in the ballet," said Jenny very quickly, so that the president might not think she was trying to push herself unduly.