“The problem we are approaching is world-old. Mankind has struggled with it intermittently since civilization began. Apparently we have made no progress. The twentieth century, in fact, with its terrific congestion in cities, its vast consumption of nervous energy and its universal commercialism, has complicated our problem. But with these new complications have come new means for warring against the evil. Intelligence on the subject is more general. Fine minds everywhere are addressing themselves to the riddle. Thus it seems that humanity is at last coming to grips with the traffic in women. Who knows but that out of this little gathering may not be evolved some theory which, injected into the circulation of modern life, shall immunize us against this social malady.”
There was subdued applause.
“As my time has been somewhat occupied,” the clergyman went on, “I have asked Mr. Carp to employ his well known literary gift in formulating our report. Let me add that I have read our brother’s resumé of our investigations and endorse it fully as to the facts found.”
Meanwhile Wyat Carp, with his best poet’s air, had arisen and bowed to the little circle. He laid a terrifying number of manuscript sheets on the table and polished his glasses with his silk handkerchief. His was the subdued manner of a surgeon about to perform an operation and, it must be confessed, his audience felt some of the sensations of the patient.
“My friends,” began Wyat Carp, “in putting before you what I trust you may see fit to adopt as our united report I am naturally moved by a feeling of delicacy—”
He paused, for directly behind the little circle of hearers the heavy curtains had been pushed aside, and a girl stood framed there against the dull red of the draperies. She was rather above medium height, with a figure rounded by exercise, a face oval and lighted by deep blue eyes underneath masses of burnished, coppery hair. Her personality seemed to fill the room. She breathed wholesomeness, vigor, sincerity and purpose.
As Lucas Randall half started from his chair the girl put out her hand and checked him.
“No, Uncle Luke,” she said, “don’t disturb yourself. I’ve been standing just outside the door for several minutes waiting for a moment to slip in quietly.”
She bowed to them all, and seated herself near the window overlooking the boulevard.
“Just go on with the report, Mr. Carp,” she said, “I assure you I am most eager to hear it.”