It annoyed her considerably to have George announce at luncheon that he had a political dinner on for the evening and probably would not be home before midnight. He grumbled a little over the dinner. "The campaign," he said, "really ended yesterday. But Doolittle thought it was wise to have a last round-up of the business men, and give them a final speech." Genevieve acquiesced with a sympathetic murmur, but she was disappointed. Merely to walk calmly out of the house at eleven o'clock lessened the excitement. However, she decided upon leaving George a note explaining that she had gone to spend the night with Betty Sheridan. She looked forward to the long afternoon with impatience. Cousin Emelene was taking her nap. Mrs. Brewster-Smith left immediately after lunch to make a call on one of her few women friends. Genevieve tried to get Betty on the telephone, but she was not at home. It was with a thrill of pleasure that she saw E. Eliot coming up the walk to the door. She hurried downstairs just as the maid explained that Mrs. Brewster-Smith was not at home. "Oh, won't you come in and see me for a moment, Miss Eliot?" Genevieve begged. "I do so want to talk to you." E. Eliot hesitated. "The truth is, I am fearfully busy today, even though it's Sunday. I wanted to get five minutes with Mrs. Brewster-Smith about those cottages--" she began. Genevieve laid a detaining hand on her arm and led her into the living-room. "She's hopeless! I can hardly bear to have her in my house after the way she acted about those fearful places." "Well, all that district is the limit, of course. She isn't the only landlord." "But she didn't _see_ those people." "She's human, I guess--didn't want to see disturbing things." "I would have torn down those cottages with my own hands!" burst forth Genevieve. E. Eliot stared. "No one likes her income cut down, you know," she palliated. "Income! What is that to human decencies?" cried the newly awakened apostle. "Your husband doesn't entirely agree with you in some of these matters, I suppose." "Oh, yes he does, in his heart! But there's something about politics that won't let you come right out and say what you think." "Not after you've come right out once and said the wrong thing," laughed E. Eliot. "I'm afraid you will have to use your indirect influence on him, Mrs. Remington." Genevieve threw her cards on the table. "Miss Eliot, I am just beginning to see how much there is for women to do in the world. I want to do something big--the sort of thing you and Betty Sheridan are doing--to rouse women. What can I do?" E. Eliot scrutinized the ardent young face with amiable amusement. "You can't very well help us just now without hurting your husband's chances and embarrassing him in the bargain. You see, we're trying to embarrass him. We want him to kick over the traces and tell what he's going to do as district attorney of this town."