“True, but they live separately. Men in general are simply the breeders who live a pampered existence from twenty to thirty-five.” “And then do you operate a sort of slaughter of the drones?” I asked ironically. “Yes, of course. Oh, we do not exterminate them,” she added, observing my start of horror. “We simply consign them to the Frigidrome with the records of their get. Occasionally if the Eugenics board is not satisfied with the strain in some particular caste, we restore the strongest breeders for further service.” “Ended and cast off at the age of thirty-five!” I said bitterly, for the degradation of my sex aroused in me the flame of revolt. I was silent, sunk in my black mood, nor could any of Dianne’s enticements draw me out of my depression. I think it was then that the call came to me to dedicate myself to the cause, as from the blue a voice called to Joan of Arc to lead her country out of defeat and despair. For suddenly I felt uplifted with a new revealing purpose. Things should not continue as they were. I would not tamely witness the humiliation of my brothers. What man had once been he should become again. Then and there I dedicated myself to the cause. I would be the John of Arc of my sex, even if the end too were martyrdom! “Jack dear--darling, what is it! You look so strange,” cried Dianne, who had been watching my gloomy abstraction. I looked at her and was conscious that in that brief interval of time something had changed between us. I loved her--my senses rioted under the flame in her eyes, but I was no longer the irresponsible John Bogardus of a moment ago. I belonged to the cause and the cause came first. “Dianne, my beloved Dianne,” I said, taking her hand gently. “I must tell you the truth.” “Oh, not that!” she cried, for love had awakened the eternal feminine, “your eyes, your voice frighten me.” “You were right! If I could only have remained ignorant, how happy we could have been,” I said sadly. “But now that I have seen,” I continued with flashing eyes, “my whole nature protests against this slavery you have placed on my sex. I shall never, never know a quiet moment until I have changed all this!” “But you--what can you do?” said Dianne, looking at me in terror. “I do not know yet, but I do know that somehow, some day, I know it, I feel it, Dianne, I shall be the instrument to deliver my brothers out of their bondage!” “How your eyes shine,” said Dianne, clasping her hands and gazing rapturously at me. “You are like a god in his wrath.” She flung her arms about me, holding me to her in the terror of her passion. I tried to comfort her, felt a certain giddiness myself, and firmly drew the lovely arms from my neck. “You will help me?” “You know I will,” she said, catching her breath. “No matter what happens?” “If you go into the Frigidrome, I shall go with you.” This time it was I who held out my arms and caught her to me.