the end of the gallery, and he saw her fumbling for her handkerchief in the folds of the green and black dress.
She was going to cry!
It set Lewisham marvelling—this totally inappropriate emotion.
He followed her and stood by her. Why cry? He hoped no one would come into the little gallery until her handkerchief was put away. Nevertheless he felt vaguely flattered. She controlled herself, dashed her tears away, and smiled bravely at him with reddened eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, gulping.
"I am so glad," she explained.
"But we will fight together. We two. I can help you. I know I can help you. And there is such Work to be done in the world!"
"You are very good to help me," said Lewisham, quoting a phrase from what he had intended to say before he found out that he had a hold upon her emotions.
"No!
"Has it ever occurred to you," she said abruptly, "how little a woman can do alone in the world?"
"Or a man," he answered after a momentary meditation.
So it was Lewisham enrolled his first ally in the cause of the red tie—of the red tie and of the Great-
