‘Hedging your bets, are you?’ said Miss Dempsey, nodding wisely. ‘Or is this evening a chance to spy on the opposition?’ And there was a gleam in her eye just as though it were all some childish game and Eleanor heard again Alasdair’s words at breakfast: It is of no account. What can they achieve, I wonder, these women? And perhaps he was right: what could they achieve? Though his words had stung, as they were intended to.

‘Should you find you require anonymity I am quite prepared to shield you with my parasol,’ Miss Dempsey offered.

‘I am intrigued to learn why Ned consented to speak here, Miss Dempsey,’ said Eleanor, choosing to ignore what she took to be a facetious remark. ‘Can it be he is secretly a champion of women’s suffrage?’

‘My brother is no champion of women’s suffrage, you may be assured of that, though on this one issue his views and theirs do happen to coincide. There he is.’ And Miss Dempsey nodded.

Eleanor looked though she could not, for the moment, make out Ned Dempsey. There were a great many women in the hall and all the seats were taken and many late arrivals stood at the rear and still others were trying to come in.

How extraordinary it was! These women stood about in excitable huddles, greeting one another, and proudly sporting their Women’s Suffrage League sashes. They gathered close to the large platform and at the entranceway, accosting new arrivals and urging pamphlets on them or deflecting the crude jibes and catcalls of the young men who passed by outside or who ventured into the hall to ridicule them. One or two gentlemen, come legitimately to the meeting, shook the women’s hands as though the ladies were gentlemen like themselves and they uttered gruff words of support or spoke loudly and pompously as though it were their meeting and they were the main event. And now Eleanor picked out Ned Dempsey, sometime member of the Legislative Assembly—though currently between constituencies—attired in his most formal suit and an old-fashioned silk cravat and spats, a top hat on his head, a cane in his hand, standing in the centre of the room talking in a loud voice and congratulating everyone, though nothing had been achieved yet and the meeting not yet begun.

Beside her Marian Dempsey sat proudly in her seat waiting for her brother to acknowledge her. She was always touchingly proud of him when he did little, other than his own unerring loyalty to her, to warrant it.

‘Who is that fellow?’ said Miss Dempsey.