e suspect that you knew nothing about it, and I would
have come at once to make sure, but we were just leaving the
neighbourhood, and we only returned yesterday. Ideala did not believe
that you knew it either, and she rated us all for the way we had
treated you. She has been in America ever since she met you at Mrs.
Carne's, but she is coming home next week, and has written to entreat
me to ask you to meet her. Will you? Will you come and stay with me?
Do! and talk this over with us. I can see that it has been a great
shock to you."

"I cannot answer you now," said Beth, "I must think--I must think what
I had better do."

"Yes, think it over," said Angelica, "then write and tell me when you
will come. Only do come. You will find yourself among friends--congenial
friends, I venture to prophesy."

When Mrs. Kilroy had gone, Beth went to her bedroom, and waited there
for Dan. It was the only place where she could be sure of seeing him
alone. He dressed for dinner now that Miss Petterick was with them.

Dan came in whistling hilariously. He stopped short when he saw Beth's
face.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Mrs. Kilroy has been here."

"I hope you thanked her for nothing!"

"I'm afraid I forgot to thank her at all," Beth said, "although she
has put me under an obligation to her."

"May I ask what the obligation is?"

"She told me frankly why no decent woman will associate with us. It is
not my fault after all, it seems, but yours--you and your Lock
Hospital. It is against the Anglo-Saxon spirit to admit panders into
society."

"Oh, she told you about that, did she, the meddling busybody!" he
answered coolly. "I was afraid they would, some of them, damn them!
and I knew you would go into hysterics. She didn't tell you the
necessity for it, I suppose, nor the good it is doing; but I will; so
just listen to me, then you'll see perhaps that I know more about it
than these canting sentimentalists."

Beth, sitting in judgment on him, set her mouth and listened in
silence until he stopped. In his own defence he gave her many
revolting details couched in the coarsest language.

"But then, in the name of justice," she exclaimed, "what means do you
take to protect those poor unfortunate women from disease? What do you
do to the men who spread it? What becomes of diseased men?"

"Oh, they marry, I suppose. Anyhow, that is not my business. Doctors
can't be expected to preach morals. Sanitation is our business."

"But