“No. I, too, am suffering from the inheritance of centuries--of dependence and of the hypocrisy inbred by generations of chivalry. It was at my own sneaking joy in your protection that I laughed--” Vassar moved uneasily, drew his straight brows low and looked at her through their veil for an instant. He was making a desperate effort to keep his brain clear. It would be ridiculous to surrender to such a charming little siren at the first encounter. “Well, sir,” she cried briskly, “now that we’ve shaken hands the first round is on. Shall I lead?” Vassar bowed. “By all means--ladies first!” “Why do you refuse to give me the ballot?” “I never knew until tonight that women like you wished it. If I had--” “You would have agreed?” “My dear Miss Holland, I not only would have agreed but I would have gone out after it and brought it to you. And all against my better judgment. If women are allowed to vote, there must be a law against your kind entering politics--” “Yes?” “Decidedly.” “And may I ask why?” she demanded. He smiled and hesitated. “If you ever get into Congress--I can see the finish of that aggregation as a deliberative body. You would be a majority from the moment you entered the Chamber--” “Please, Mr. Vassar--“ she protested. “We have no time for chaff--” He rose abruptly from the depths of the armchair, seized a light one, moved it nearer to the corner of the table, sat down and bent close to his charming opponent. “I’m not chaffing,” he began eagerly. “I’m in earnest. Your personality has upset all my preconceived ideas of the leaders of this woman’s movement. I am more than ever alarmed at its sinister significance. You take my judgment by storm because you’re charming. You stop the process of reasoning by merely lifting your eyes to mine. Such a power cannot be used to further the ends of justice or perfect the organization of society. The power you wield defies all law--” Virginia laughed in spite of an effort at self-control. “Are you making love to me, Mr. Vassar?” she cried. He blushed and stammered. “Well--not--deliberately--” “Unconsciously?” He mopped the perspiration from his brow in confusion. “Perhaps.” Virginia rose, and her lips closed firmly. “I think our interview had better end. We are wasting each other’s time--” “Please, Miss Holland,” he begged with deep humility, “forgive me. I was never more sincere in my life. I should have been more careful. But there’s something about your frank manner that disarmed me. You seemed so charmingly friendly. I forget that we are enemies--forgive me--” “There’s nothing to forgive. You are the type of man who cannot understand my position--and for that reason cannot meet me as an intellectual equal. I resent it--”