had thrown in her lot with them, but could never be induced to abandon her umbrella.  They also, as Joan told herself, were reformers.  Near to them was a picturesque gentleman with a beard down to his waist whose “stunt”—­as Flossie would have termed it—­was hygienic clothing; it seemed to contain an undue proportion of fresh air.  There were ladies in coats and stand-up collars, and gentlemen with ringlets.  More than one of the guests would have been better, though perhaps not happier, for a bath.

“I fancy that’s the idea,” said Joan.  “What will you do if you fail?  Go back to China?”

“Yes,” he answered.  “And take her with me.  Poor little girl.”

Joan rather resented his tone.

“We are not all alike,” she remarked.  “Some of us are quite sane.”

He looked straight into her eyes.  “You are,” he said.  “I have been reading your articles.  They are splendid.  I’m going to help.”

“How can you?” she said.  “I mean, how will you?”

“Shipping is my business,” he said.  “I’m going to help sailor men.  See that they have somewhere decent to go to, and don’t get robbed.  And then there are the Lascars, poor devils.  Nobody ever takes their part.”

“How did you come across them?” she asked.  “The articles, I mean.  Did Flo give them to you?”

“No,” he answered.  “Just chance.  Caught sight of your photo.”

“Tell me,” she said.  “If it had been the photo of a woman with a bony throat and a beaky nose would you have read them?”

He thought a moment.  “Guess not,” he answered.  “You’re just as bad,” he continued.  “Isn’t it the pale-faced young clergyman with the wavy hair and the beautiful voice that you all flock to hear?  No getting away from nature.  But it wasn’t only that.”  He hesitated.

“I want to know,” she said.

“You looked so young,” he answered.  “I had always had the idea that it was up to the old people to put the world to rights—­that all I had to do was to look after myself.  It came to me suddenly while you were talking to me—­I mean while I was reading you:  that if you were worrying yourself about it, I’d got to come in, too—­that it would be mean of me not to.  It wasn’t like being preached to.  It was somebody calling for help.”

Instinctively she held out her hand and he grasped it.

Flossie came up at the same instant.  She wanted to introduce him to Miss Lavery, who had just arrived.

“Hullo!” she said.  “Are you two concluding a bargain?”

“Yes,” said Joan.  “We are founding the League of Youth.  You’ve got to be in it.  We are going to establish branches all round the world.”

Flossie’s young man was whisked away.  Joan, who had seated herself in a small chair, was alone for a few minutes.

Miss Tolley had chanced upon a Human Document, with the help of which she was hopeful of starting a “Press Controversy” concerning the morality, or otherwise, of “Running Waters.”  The secretary stood just behind her, taking notes.  They had drifted quite close.  Joan could not help overhearing.