—Providence, I mean—HAS arranged it so that men will keep you, more or less. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. . I think not. ’ The lady sighed and spread her hands. Still, I'm glad she didn't accept my invitation to join us. “There is no remedy, girls,” she began, breathlessly, “except the Vote. Perhaps I'd better open it now. " She pursed her lips and uttered a whistle, piercingly shrill and high; and instantly she became the object of intense astonishment on the part of the other diners. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea.
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