‘Of course it is,’ assented Rhoda, laughing with forced gaiety.

’I am glad of anything that seems to threaten it as an institution—­in its present form.  A scandalous divorce case is a delight to me—­anything that makes it evident how much misery would be spared if we could civilize ourselves in this respect.  There are women whose conduct I think personally detestable, and whom yet I can’t help thanking for their assault upon social laws.  We shall have to go through a stage of anarchy, you know, before reconstruction begins.  Yes, in that sense I am an anarchist.  Seriously, I believe if a few men and women in prominent position would contract marriage of the free kind, without priest or lawyer, open and defiantly, they would do more benefit to their kind than in any other possible way.  I don’t declare this opinion to every one, but only because I am a coward.  Whatever one believes with heart and soul one ought to make known.’

Rhoda wore a look of anxious reflection.

‘It needs a great deal of courage,’ she said.  ’To take that step, I mean.’

’Of course.  We need martyrs.  And yet I doubt whether the martyrdom would be very long, or very trying, to intellectual people.  A woman of brains who boldly acted upon her conviction would have no lack of congenial society.  The best people are getting more liberal than they care to confess to each other.  Wait until some one puts the matter to the test and you will see.’

Rhoda became so busy with her tumultuous thoughts that she spoke only a word now and then, allowing Mrs. Cosgrove to talk at large on this engrossing theme.

‘Where is Mrs. Widdowson living?’ the revolutionist at length inquired.

‘I don’t know.  But I can get you her address.’

’Pray do.  I shall go and see her.  We are quite friendly enough for me to do so without impertinence.’

Having lunched with her acquaintance, Rhoda went in the afternoon to Mildred Vesper’s lodgings.  Miss Vesper was at home, reading, in her usual placid mood.  She gave Rhoda the address that was on Mrs. Widdowson’s last brief note, and that evening Rhoda sent it to Mrs. Cosgrove by letter.

In two days she received a reply.  Mrs. Cosgrove had called upon Mrs. Widdowson at her lodgings at Clapham.  ’She is ill, wretched, and unwilling to talk.  I could only stay about a quarter of an hour, and to ask questions was impossible.  She mentioned your name, and appeared very anxious to hear about you; but when I asked whether she would like you to call she grew timid all at once, and said she hoped you wouldn’t unless you really desired to see her.  Poor thing!  Of course I don’t know what it all means, but I came away with maledictions on marriage in my heart—­one is always safe in indulging that feeling.’

A week or so after this there arrived for Miss Barfoot a letter from Everard.  The postmark was Ostend.