A young woman with a white badge on her arm stood and counted the sections as they entered their vans. He said the place had gone to wrack. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. Drummond, who had been about to speak, refrained. His hand flew across the paper. "I do," replied Thames, in the same tone; "we haven't a moment to lose. One always dreamed of this and never believed it.
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