At that she sat silent, looking away from him, and he, daring a quick glance at her, found that he might let his eyes remain upon her face. That was a dangerous place for eyes to rest, yet Alonzo Rawson was anxious for the risk. The car flew along the even asphalt on its way to the country like a wild goose on a long slant of wind, and, with his foolish fury melted inexplicably into honey, Alonzo looked at her--and looked at her--till he would have given an arm for another quick corner and a street-car to send his cheek against that veiled, cold cheek of hers again. It was not until they reached the alternate vacant lots and bleak Queen Anne cottages of the city's ragged edge that she broke the silence. “You were talking to some one else,” she said almost inaudibly. “Yes ma'am, Goldstein, but--” “Oh, no!” She turned toward him, lifting her hand. “You were quite the lion among ladies.” “I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Protheroe,” he said, truthfully. “What were you talking to all those women about?” “It was about the 'Sunday Baseball Bill.'” “Ah! The bill you attacked in your speech, last Wednesday?” “Yes ma'am.” “I hear you haven't made any speeches since then,” she said indifferently. “No ma'am,” he answered gently. “I kind of got the idea that I'd better lay low for a while at first, and get in some quiet hard work.” “I understand. You are a man of intensely reserved nature.” “With men,” said Alonzo, “I am. With ladies I am not so much so. I think a good woman ought to be told--” “But you are interested,” she interrupted, “in defeating that bill?” “Yes ma'am,” he returned. “It is an iniquitous measure.” “Why?” “Mrs. Protheroe!” he exclaimed, taken aback. “I thought all the ladies were against it. My own mother wrote to me from Stackpole that she'd rather see me in my grave than votin' for such a bill, and I'd rather see myself there!” “But are you sure that you understand it?” “I only know it desecrates the Sabbath. That's enough for me!” She leaned toward him and his breath came quickly. “No. You're wrong,” she said, and rested the tips of her fingers upon his sleeve. “I don't understand why--why you say that,” he faltered. “It sounds kind of--surprising to me--” “Listen,” she said. “Perhaps Mr. Truslow told you that I am studying such things. I do not want to be an idle woman; I want to be of use to the world, even if it must be only in small ways.” “I think that is a noble ambition!” he exclaimed. “I think all good women ought--” “Wait,” she interrupted gently. “Now, that bill is a worthy one, though it astonishes you to hear me say so. Perhaps you don't understand the conditions. Sunday is the labouring-man's only day of recreation--and what recreation is he offered?” “He ought to go to church,” said Alonzo promptly.