On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. "Ja, ja, Muntmeester," said the Hollander, shaking his head in reply;—"very bad —very. Sir Rowland is one of us," he added, winking at his companions, "and so was his brother-in-law, Sir Cecil Trafford. Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. You don’t have to live forever to understand that. She found an old drunk wandering the streets. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. “I had thought to go on to Kandersteg,” said Capes, “but this is a pleasant place.
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