“Business!”
They exchanged glances.
“Come along, Eve.”
Somehow the name seemed to strike all three of them with symbolical suggestiveness. Her comrades looked at her mistrustfully.
They sat down at the table.
“As you happen to know people here, you had better be on your guard. There is work to be done here. I have just wired to Galahad.”
Eve met Joan Gaunt’s eyes.
“Are there black sheep in Basingford?”
“A particularly black one. An anti-suffrage lunatic. She has been on platforms against us. That makes one feel bitter.”
“So it’s a she!”