on as he spoke the last
sentence, was that of the man who had scorned the proposition of a woman
for mayor--"no; we are radically opposed to each other. We are not just
a boy and girl who might grow together in spite of all differences. We
are a man and woman of strong opinions, just as unlike as possible. We
should quarrel fearfully; and life is given us for something better than
bickering and growing to hate each other. No, I say--no."

"Perhaps I'd better leave you here," said Allingham, coldly, when she
stopped. And raising his hat, he turned down a side street. Somehow the
charm of the long walk had fled and Gertrude hurried her steps, too,
taking the shortest route to Van Deusen Hall. But when she was safely
sheltered by the four walls of her own room, the strong-willed mayor of
Roma threw herself on the bed and indulged in a good cry. For deep down
in her heart, she knew she had done wrong--a wrong to the man who loved
her--a wrong to her own better nature.

Later she went down to her dinner and faced the world again, cool and
dignified; and no one could have dreamed that under her smiling exterior
she was hiding a heartache.

CHAPTER XXVI

Retrospect and Prophecy

Just two years after the luncheon of the "Progressive Workers," at which
the first proposition was made to elect a woman-mayor, the executive
board met again to discuss plans for the coming winter. For the first
time in many months Gertrude Van Deusen was with them. She had been
obliged to forego club-meetings for the most part, unless she would
neglect the affairs of her office, and she had all the woman's
conscientious scruples about routine and detail.

"Well," said Mrs. Mason, who was president this year, "we can claim
credit for a lot of good work in the past year or two. At last, we are
a power in the city in fact, as well as in name."

"Yes," said Mrs. Bateman, "we are a recognized factor in public affairs.
The chairman of the Municipal League came to me the other day to know
what we propose to do about the winter campaign in politics and in
civics."

"They know they can't do much without us," murmured the fluffy little
woman in a new blue gown. "My husband says so."

"One doesn't wonder," said Cornelia Jewett, "when one looks over the
city. We have our markets inspected, have shut up saloons and worse
places, have put two women on the school board, cleaned the streets,
established vacation schools and playgrounds, and elected