Then, rapping gently on the table, he glanced about him. "A motion is in order before we adjourn, my friends," he stated, expectantly. "I move Mr. Carp's report be adopted as it stands," said Marvin Lattimer breathlessly. He had waited patiently all afternoon to speak just those words. His business judgment, as applied to social affairs, had taught him the wisdom of getting into the record. He was only a recent confidant of this inner circle of All Souls and he aspired to remain where he was. Besides, it would be something to tell the socially ambitious Mrs. Lattimer when he got home. There was a second from Miss Laforth. "You hear the motion," breathed the reverend chairman. "Those in favor will please say 'aye.'" As they all responded he beamed upon them. He turned with a deprecatory glance to Carp. "And as a matter of form, those contrary minded will please signify by saying 'no.'" He waited a moment. Quite clearly and distinctly Mary Randall spoke: "No!" The tiny monosyllable seemed to echo and reecho through the high-ceiled room. There was a most embarrassing silence. "Mary," faltered Mrs. Randall. Mary came over and pressed her hand against her aunt's shoulder. "Believe me," she said, "I don't mean to wound you. You don't understand." Then turning to the Rev. Mr. Brattle, she went on: "But I must insist that my vote in the negative be recorded in the minutes of this meeting." "May I inquire the cause of your--er--peculiar attitude?" asked the clergyman. "Do you think that fair, Dr. Brattle?" "Possibly not fair, but perhaps our curiosity is pardonable." There was suppressed sarcasm in his retort. "In your little speech of introduction, my dear doctor," said the girl, "you advanced the suggestion that this meeting might evolve some theory that would rid society of the social evil. The great trouble with this report is that it is all theory. I have no quarrel with the facts that Mr. Carp has given us, except that they are old--'world old,' as I think you said. Weeks have been spent on this investigation and yet there is not one word--not a single word--that answers the appeal going up in this city day after day from thousands of unfortunate women. We sit here, after weeks of investigation, and listen to a homily. The time is past in Chicago for homilies. The question is: What are we going to do about it? Helpless thousands are asking us that question and we answer it with a treatise full of 'world-old' truth and full of 'theory.' Mr. Carp speaks of the resorts on Dunkirk street being 'questionable'--" "They are questionable," defended Mr. Carp stoutly. "Questionable, Mr. Carp," replied Mary, "is a gentle word. These resorts are a shrieking infamy. They are markets in which young girls are sold like cattle." "How do you know that?" demanded Grove Evans, almost rudely. He felt his club appointment slipping away from him and the poker game owed him two hundred dollars. Mary looked from her aunt to her uncle.