he chestnut-colored brick of the
Russell Square houses had some curious connection with her thoughts
about office economy, and served also as a sign that she should get
into trim for meeting Mr. Clacton, or Mrs. Seal, or whoever might be
beforehand with her at the office. Having no religious belief, she was
the more conscientious about her life, examining her position from time
to time very seriously, and nothing annoyed her more than to find one of
these bad habits nibbling away unheeded at the precious substance. What
was the good, after all, of being a woman if one didn't keep fresh, and
cram one's life with all sorts of views and experiments? Thus she always
gave herself a little shake, as she turned the corner, and, as often as
not, reached her own door whistling a snatch of a Somersetshire ballad.

The suffrage office was at the top of one of the large Russell Square
houses, which had once been lived in by a great city merchant and his
family, and was now let out in slices to a number of societies which
displayed assorted initials upon doors of ground glass, and kept, each
of them, a typewriter which clicked busily all day long. The old
house, with its great stone staircase, echoed hollowly to the sound of
typewriters and of errand-boys from ten to six. The noise of different
typewriters already at work, disseminating their views upon the
protection of native races, or the value of cereals as foodstuffs,
quickened Mary's steps, and she always ran up the last flight of steps
which led to her own landing, at whatever hour she came, so as to get
her typewriter to take its place in competition with the rest.

She sat herself down to her letters, and very soon all these
speculations were forgotten, and the two lines drew themselves between
her eyebrows, as the contents of the letters, the office furniture, and
the sounds of activity in the next room gradually asserted their sway
upon her. By eleven o'clock the atmosphere of concentration was running
so strongly in one direction that any thought of a different order could
hardly have survived its birth more than a moment or so. The task which
lay before her was to organize a series of entertainments, the profits
of which were to benefit the society, which drooped for want of funds.
It was her first attempt at organization on a large scale, and she meant
to achieve something remarkable. She meant to use the cumbrous machine
to pick out this, that, and the other interesti