The Fall of a Nation. Thomas Dixon

He was making a desperate effort to keep his brain clear. It would be ridiculous to surrender to such a charming little siren at the first encounter.

      “Well, sir,” she cried briskly, “now that we’ve shaken hands the first round is on. Shall I lead?”

      Vassar bowed.

      “By all means – ladies first!”

      “Why do you refuse to give me the ballot?”

      “I never knew until tonight that women like you wished it. If I had – ”

      “You would have agreed?”

      “My dear Miss Holland, I not only would have agreed but I would have gone out after it and brought it to you. And all against my better judgment. If women are allowed to vote, there must be a law against your kind entering politics – ”

      “Yes?”

      “Decidedly.”

      “And may I ask why?” she demanded.

      He smiled and hesitated.

      “If you ever get into Congress – I can see the finish of that aggregation as a deliberative body. You would be a majority from the moment you entered the Chamber – ”

      “Please, Mr. Vassar – “ she protested. “We have no time for chaff – ”

      He rose abruptly from the depths of the armchair, seized a light one, moved it nearer to the corner of the table, sat down and bent close to his charming opponent.

      “I’m not chaffing,” he began eagerly. “I’m in earnest. Your personality has upset all my preconceived ideas of the leaders of this woman’s movement. I am more than ever alarmed at its sinister significance. You take my judgment by storm because you’re charming. You stop the process of reasoning by merely lifting your eyes to mine. Such a power cannot be used to further the ends of justice or perfect the organization of society. The power you wield defies all law – ”

      Virginia laughed in spite of an effort at self-control.

      “Are you making love to me, Mr. Vassar?” she cried.

      He blushed and stammered.

      “Well – not – deliberately – ”

      “Unconsciously?”

      He mopped the perspiration from his brow in confusion.

      “Perhaps.”

      Virginia rose, and her lips closed firmly.

      “I think our interview had better end. We are wasting each other’s time – ”

      “Please, Miss Holland,” he begged with deep humility, “forgive me. I was never more sincere in my life. I should have been more careful. But there’s something about your frank manner that disarmed me. You seemed so charmingly friendly. I forget that we are enemies – forgive me – ”

      “There’s nothing to forgive. You are the type of man who cannot understand my position – and for that reason cannot meet me as an intellectual equal. I resent it – ”

      “But I’m not the type of man who cannot understand. I will meet you as an intellectual equal. I’ll do more. I concede your superiority. You have baffled and defeated me at every turn tonight – I go puzzled and humiliated. I refuse to accept such a defeat. You cannot dismiss me in this absurd fashion. I’ll camp on your doorstep until we have this thing out.”

      “You’ll not call without an appointment, I hope?”

      “Oh, yes, I will. I’m going to cultivate your father. I’ll accept his invitation. I’ll make your house my happy home until we at least come to an intelligent understanding of our differences – ”

      “Tomorrow then?” she said. “I’m tired tonight. Tomorrow at eleven o’clock – ”

      Vassar smiled at the business-like hour.

      “I’ve an important engagement at eleven that will keep me an hour. It’s Flag Day at my schools – the kiddies expect me – ”

      “Flag Day?”

      “A little device of mine to teach our boys and girls to love their country – won’t you join us tomorrow at the old Tenth Armory and inspect my forces?”

      Virginia hesitated.

      “All right, I will. I’ll ask Mr. Waldron to pick me up there at noon.”

      “I’ll expect you at eleven.”

      He pressed her hand with a new sense of uneasiness, defeat and anger which Waldron’s name had aroused.

      CHAPTER VIII

      JOHN VASSAR’S sleep had been fitful and unsatisfying. Through hours of half-conscious brooding and dreaming he had seen the face of Virginia Holland. He had thus far found no time for social frivolities. The air of America was just the tonic needed to transform the tragic inheritance of the Old World into a passion for work that had practically ruled women out of the scheme of things.

      He had dreamed of a home of his own in the dim future – yes – when the work of his career, the work he had planned for his country should have been done. This had been his life, the breath he breathed, his inspiration and religion – to lead an American renaissance of patriotism. America had never had a national spirit. His ambition was to fire the soul of thoughtless millions into a conscious love of country which would insure her glorious destiny.

      A woman’s smile had upset this dream. Through the night he had tried in vain to throw off the obsession. At daylight he had fallen into a sleep of sheer exhaustion. It was nine o’clock before he was roused by a gentle knock on his door.

      Marya’s voice was calling somewhere out of space.

      “Uncle John – breakfast is waiting – may I come in?”

      “All right – dearie – break right in!” he groaned.

      “And I’ve a letter for you – a special letter – ”

      The sleeper was awake now, alert, eager —

      “A special letter?”

      “A big black man brought it just now. He’s waiting in the hall – says Miss Holland would like an answer.”

      Vassar seized the letter and read with a broad grin. The handwriting was absurdly delicate. The idea that a suffragette could have written it was ridiculous!

      My dear Mr. Vassar:

      I’m heartily ashamed of myself for losing my temper last night. Please call for me at ten o’clock. I wish a little heart-to-heart talk before we go to your Flag Festival. Please answer by the bearer.

Virginia Holland.

      Vassar drew Marya into his arms and kissed her rapturously.

      “You’re an angel – you’ve brought me a message from the skies. Run now and tell the big black man – Miss Holland’s butler – to thank her for me and say that I’ll be there promptly at ten. Run, darling! Run!”

      The child refused to stir without another kiss which she repeated on both his cheeks. She stopped at the door and waved another.

      “Hurry, Uncle John – please – we’re all starved.”

      “Down in five minutes!” he cried.

      The weariness of the night’s fitful sleep was gone. The world was suddenly filled with light and music.

      “What the devil’s come over me!” he muttered, astonished at the persistent grin his mirror reflected. “At this rate I can see my finish – I’ll be the secretary of the Suffragette Campaign Committee before the week’s over – bah!”

      Old Peter, the black butler, ushered him into the parlor with a stately bow.

      “Miss Virginia be right down, sah. She say she des finishin’ her breakfus’ – yassah!”

      Vassar seated himself with a sense of triumph. She must have written