"It is easy to see that you are not a woman suffragist," commented
Edith.
"Woman suffrage," echoed the other, her voice never for an instant varied from its even and highbred pitch; "woman suffrage must remain a practical impossibility until the idea can be eradicated from society that the initiative in passion is the province of man."
"Brava!" cried the hostess. "Mr. Herman ought to hear that epigram. He asked me last night if he ought to put an inscription in favor of woman suffrage on the hem of the _America _he is modelling."
Helen turned toward her quickly.
"Is Mr. Herman making a model of the America?" she asked. "Has he the commission?"
"He hasn't the commission, because nobody has it, but he has been asked by the committee to prepare a model."
"That is"—began Helen. "Strange," she was going to say, but fortunately caught herself in time and substituted "capital. It is good to think that Boston will have one really fine statue."
"Aren't you in that, Mrs. Greyson?" Mrs. Frostwinch asked.
"No," Helen answered. "I am really doing little since I came home. I am waiting until the time serves, I suppose."
She spoke without especial thought of what she was saying, desiring merely to cover any indications which might show the feeling aroused by what she had just heard and the decision she had just taken to have nothing to do with the contest for the statue of America, although she had begun a study for the figure.