They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. He was a stranger. They were terrible, horrible people. Miss Klegg raised the question of women’s suffrage, and he set himself to provoke a duel between her and Miss Garvice. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. Across that world was written in letters of light, “Endowment of Motherhood. Stanley considered. “She told you that?” “Yes. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a faint shudder stir her shoulders. His eyes were set too close together.
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