With very deft fingers she manipulated the machine.

Presently, when her task was finished, she sat back in her chair, her coffee cup in her hand, her great eyes fixed upon him.

She had the air of a person entirely content.
"So you are Julia Thurnbrein." "And you," she replied, still with that note of suppressed yet passionate reverence in her tone, "are Maraton." He smiled.
"The women workers of the world owe you a great deal," he said.
"But it is so little that one can do," she answered, quivering with pleasure at his words.

"One needs inspiration, direction.

Now that you have come, it will be different; it will be wonderful!" She leaned towards him, and once more Maraton was conscious of the splendid mobility of her trembling body.