[K] In Justice to Mr. Low and Mr Jenks it should be said that they disclaimed any intention of indorsing a bill which authorized the boycott. They afterward amended the clause in question by authorizing employees "to strike for any cause not unlawful at common law," which modification leads into many legal fogs which it is hardly worth while to enter in this place. [L] The bill provided, it is true, that the contracts might still be assailed on the ground of unreasonableness. The practical effect, however, it was generally conceded--virtually admitted by Herbert Knox Smith--would be to give them immunity for all time. THE ETERNAL FEMININE BY TEMPLE BAILEY If it had been any one but Anne Beaumont! "I don't like turning conventionalities topsy-turvy, Sophie," she said, as we went downstairs; "I don't believe I can ever ask a man to dance with me." "Other women do," I murmured. "My husband would never have agreed to such a thing," Anne stated. That is where Anne always had the advantage of me. Although she had been a widow for five years, she still quoted the authoritative masculine point of view, while I, having in my teens chosen a career instead of a husband, and never having rectified my mistake, was forced to fall back on the unsupported feminine. "Perhaps you'd rather sit out the dances," was my somewhat malicious way of putting it. Anne, poised like a white butterfly on the landing, turned on me a reproachful glance. "No woman would rather be a wallflower," she affirmed. "Of course not," I returned promptly, "and I don't believe it is going to be very bad after the first plunge." Anne leaned over the stair rail and surveyed the formidable group of men in the lower hall. "It's dreadful," she said. Then, gathering about her a scarf of silver tissue, she commanded, "You go first, Sophie," and we descended together. At the foot of the stairs, Charlemagne Dabney met us. "Charlie, boy," Anne said plaintively, "ask me to dance with you. I simply can't get used to the leap-year idea----" And I, having prepared to blunder into a formal, "May I have the pleasure?" was so illumined by her method that I employed it with success--for though I lacked Anne's appealing coquetry, I challenged old friends, and my card was soon filled. But Anne did not depend on old friends. She danced with the count from Hungary, the multi-millionaire from the West, the Senator from Kentucky, and to fill up spaces she fell back on Charlemagne Dabney. "I think it was lovely of you," she told him at supper, "to open the house for the week-end and the dance. Only, it's too bad that you insist on the leap-year idea for the whole time." Across the table Elizabeth Ames sparkled radiantly. "I like it. I didn't dance with a single bore, and before I go home I am going to ask all of the men to marry me!"