One day they were at tea in the laboratory and a discussion sprang up about the question of women’s suffrage. Gosse must now fight with his back to the altar, and a dais at his heels. Earles answered, glibly. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. “Glaciers?” she said. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously.
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