ong it _was_ Vivie. Don't you know me? Frank Gardner!"

While waiting for the formalities to be concluded and their
transference to cells in which they were to pass the night, Frank
told Vivie briefly that he had returned from Rhodesia a prosperous
man on a brief holiday leaving his wife and children to await his
return. Hearing there was likely to be an unusual row that evening
over the Suffrage question he had sauntered down from the Strand to
see what was going on and had been haunted by the conviction that he
would meet Vivie in the middle of the conflict. But when he rushed
to her defence his action was instinctive, the impulse of any
red-blooded man to defend a woman that was being brutally
maltreated.

The next morning they were haled before the magistrate. Michael
Rossiter was in court as a spectator, feverishly anxious to pay
Vivie's fine or to find bail, or in all and every way to come to her
relief. He seemed rather mystified at the sight of Frank Gardner
arraigned with her. But presently the prosecuting counsel for the
Chief Commissioner of Police arrived and told the astonished
magistrate it was the wish of the Home Secretary that the prisoners
in the dock should all be discharged, Vivie and Frank Gardner among
them. At any rate no evidence would be tendered by the prosecution.

So they were released, as also was each fresh batch of prisoners
brought in after them. Vivie went in a cab to her house in the
Victoria Road; Frank back to his hotel. Both had promised to
foregather at Rossiter's house in Portland Place at lunch.

Hitherto Vivie had refrained from entering No. 1 Park Crescent. She
had not seen it or Mrs. Rossiter since David's attack of faintness
and hysteria in February, 1909, nearly two years ago. Why she went
now she scarcely knew, logically. It was unwise to renew relations
too closely with Rossiter, who showed his solicitude for her far too
plainly in his face. The introduction to Linda Rossiter in her
female form would be embarrassing and would doubtless set that good
lady questioning and speculating.

Yet she felt she must see Rossiter--writing was always dangerous and
inadequate--and reason with him; beg him not to spoil his own
chances in life for her, not lose his head in politics and personal
animosities on her behalf, as he seemed likely to do. Already people
were speaking of him as a parallel to ----, and ----, and ---- (you
can fill the blanks for yourself with the names of