"Some of us have," Cicily retorted; and the ac-
cent on the first word pointed the allusion.
  " Oh, hush, dear! " The chiding whisper came
from Mrs. Delancy, a gray-haired woman of sixty-
five, somew hat inclined to stoutness and having a
handsome, kindly face. She was the aunt of Cicily,
and had reared the motherless girl in her New York
home. Now, on a visit to her niece, the bride of a
year, she found herself inevitably involved in the
somewhat turbulent session of the Civitas Club, with
which as yet she enjoyed no great amount of sym-
pathy. Her position in the chair nearest the presid-
ing officer gave her opportunity to voice the rebuke
without being overheard by anyone save the militant
Mrs. Flynn, who smiled covertly.
  Cicily bent forward, and spoke softly to her aunt's
  " I just had to say it, auntie," she avowed happily.
"You know, she tried her hardest to catch Charles."
  Mrs. Morton, a middle-aged society woman, who
displayed sporadic interest in the cause of woman
during the dull season, now rose from the chair im-
mediately behind Mrs. Flynn, and spoke with a tone
of great decisiveness: