"You have been in Europe?"
"Oh, yes, for a year at a time. Three times in all."
"Lately?"
"No. The last time I was very young."
"You will see things with different eyes."
He seemed to be promising her something, in the fervor of his speech. Some one had said of him once that, in talking to women, he always said "you" as if it meant "you and I." It may not have been to women alone. Young men felt that in the reconstruction of the earth it would not be merely MacLeod who led the van, but MacLeod and each one of them.
"I should like," she dared, "to see the things you are doing. I should like to know—the Brotherhood."
"You shall know it. There are as many women in it as men. When the starving citizens marched up to Paris to ask King Louis for bread, the women's voices were loudest, I fancy. There is no distinction in our membership. Men and women serve alike."
"When could I join it?"
"Not too fast, dear lady." He was smiling at her. That warm tone of personal consideration soothed her through the dusk. "It involves hardship, the laying down of self. Are you ready for that?"