he surrounding houses: it might have been transported from
a foreign country and set down here. As the home of that odd, cooperative
society of thrifty and gregarious Belgians it had stimulated her
imagination, and once before she had gazed, as now, through the yellowed,
lantern-like windows of the little store at the women and children
waiting to fill their baskets with the day's provisions. In the middle of
the building was an entrance leading up to the second floor. Presently
she gathered the courage to enter. Her heart was pounding as she climbed
the dark stairs and thrust open the door, and she stood a moment on the
threshold almost choked by the fumes of tobacco, bewildered by the scene
within, confused by the noise. Through a haze of smoke she beheld groups
of swarthy foreigners fiercely disputing among themselves--apparently on
the verge of actual combat, while a sprinkling of silent spectators of
both sexes stood at the back of the hall. At the far end was a stage,
still set with painted, sylvan scenery, and seated there, alone, above
the confusion and the strife, with a calmness, a detachment almost
disconcerting, was a stout man with long hair and a loose black tie. He
was smoking a cigar and reading a newspaper which he presently flung
down, taking up another from a pile on the table beside him. Suddenly one
of the groups, shouting and gesticulating, surged toward him and made an
appeal through their interpreter. He did not appear to be listening;
without so much as lowering his newspaper he spoke a few words in reply,
and the group retired, satisfied. By some incomprehensible power he
dominated. Panting, fascinated, loath to leave yet fearful, Janet watched
him, breathing now deeply this atmosphere of smoke, of strife, and
turmoil. She found it grateful, for the strike, the battle was in her own
soul as well. Momentarily she had forgotten Rolfe, who had been in her
mind as she had come hither, and then she caught sight of him in a group
in the centre of the hall. He saw her, he was making his way toward her,
he was holding her hands, looking down into her face with that air of
appropriation, of possession she remembered. But she felt no resentment
now, only a fierce exultation at having dared.

"You've come to join us!" he exclaimed. "I thought I'd lost you."

He bent closer to her that she might hear.

"We are having a meeting of the Committee," he said, and she smiled.
Despite her agitation, this struck