endidly
allegorical. She stood there for the great things of life.

"I would not go away," she cried softly. "They forbade me to stay, but
I came back. I am Julia Thurnbrein. I have waited so long."

Maraton stepped towards her and took her hands.

"I am glad," he said. "It is fitting that you should be one of the
first to welcome me. You have done a great work, Julia Thurnbrein."

"And you," she murmured passionately, still clasping his hands, "you a
far greater one! Ever since I understood, I have longed for this
meeting. It is you who will become the world's deliverer."

Maraton led her gently back to the chair in which she had been sitting.

"Now we must talk," he declared. "Sit opposite to me there."

He struck a match and lit the lamp of a little coffee machine which
stood upon the table. She sprang eagerly to her feet.

"Let me, please," she begged. "I understand those things. Please let
me make the coffee."

He laughed and, going to the cabinet, brought another of the old blue
china cups and saucers. With very deft fingers she manipulated the
machine. Presently, when her task was finished, she sat back in her
chair, her coffee cup in her hand, her great eyes fixed upon him. She
had the air of a person entirely content.

"So you are Julia Thurnbrein."

"And you," she replied, still with that note of suppressed yet
passionate reverence in her tone, "are Maraton."

He smiled.

"The women workers of the world owe you a great deal," he said.

"But it is so little that one can do," she answered, quivering with
pleasure at his words. "One needs inspiration, direction. Now that you
have come, it will be different; it will be wonderful!"

She leaned towards him, and once more Maraton was conscious of the
splendid mobility of her trembling body. She was a revelation to him--a
modern Joan of Arc.

"Remember that I am no magician," he warned her.

"Ah, but your very presence alters everything!" she cried. "It makes
everything possible--everything. My brother, too, is mad with
excitement. He hoped that you might have been at the Clarion Hall
to-night, before you went to Downing Street. You have seen Mr. Foley
and talked with him?"

"I have come straight from there," he told her. "Foley is a shrewd man.
He sees the writing upon the wall. He is afraid."

She looked at him and laughed.

"They will try to buy you," she remarked scornfully. "They will try to
deal with you as they did with Blake and others