“I have no doubt of it,” said Gage. “Do your views agree?” asked the older woman lightly. “Very seldom,” answered Gage. He had not made it light. It was like the flick of a whip. Margaret interposed. “Gage doesn’t believe in women’s progress, Harriet--don’t get him started, please.” “I wish he would get started. There are plenty of times when I think we’re all talking balderdash and it would be a relief to hear some one give testimony against us. What is the matter with women, Mr. Flandon?” Gage’s tired, half-haunted eyes looked at her as if he suspected mockery but he found none. “According to most belief, there is nothing the matter with them. They are supremely successful. They’ve got what they wanted. If they don’t like the taste of their little mess of pottage as they eat it, it will be unfortunate.” “You don’t think they will like it?” “I may be mistaken. It may suit their taste.” “I’m afraid it won’t but it’s the best food we’re able to provide so far. Perhaps we’ve overpaid for it.” “You have.” He stopped, abruptly conscious of being drawn into discussion in public. Margaret and Helen had been listening to the brief dialogue, and he stiffened to the sense of their presence. “I can’t stay, Helen--I’ve an appointment. Is there anything I can do?” She walked with him to the end of the room, impelled by a desire to preserve what she could of appearances but more by an unexpected pain at having him leave her. She did not want him to stay--she was clear about that, but she hated to have him go away in that lonely fashion. The gentleness that welled up only lasted for a moment. He was ugly still. She could tell by the set of his lips. It brought back her terribly painful memories. “Good night, Gage.” That was all. Towards morning Gage went to bed. He had been drinking other people’s whisky and he was ill enough to suspect it had not been good stuff. II He did not go to the great Auditorium until the next afternoon. It took some time to get himself into shape. The heat had begun, heat which settled thickly on the city for three days and played its own part in making possible agreements and compromises. By noon the smart look, the brisk look had gone from everything and everybody and the sticky battle with the weather had begun. Gage had met some men from his own part of the country and they entered the great hall where the banners hung limp from the ceiling and the delegates were already coming back to their places after the noon recess. Gage did not look for his wife but after a while he saw her--as usual looking the mistress of herself. His head was hot and thick and he hated her for the fine mastery of her health and beauty. He wanted to see her in tears--prostrate--and because he knew his desire was ugly he slipped down in his own self-respect, which already was becoming such a frail reed to cling to.