he lives of the common people
are so. There strong men and deep-breasted women will work for the joy
of working, since all is for the common good. Their children will be
free and happy and well fed... yes, and equal to each other. From that
highly socialized state, because it is tied together by love, will come
that restrained freedom which is the most perfect individualism."

The nurse forced him gently back upon the pillows. "There! You've talked
enough to-day."

He lay coughing, a hectic flush above the high cheek bones. Presently,
at a look from the nurse, his guests departed.

Outside the building Miller left the rest abruptly. Flanked by the two
cousins, Alice crossed Yarnell Way back to that world to which she had
always belonged.

James laid down the law to her concerning the folly of such excursions
into the unconventional. Alice listened. She discovered that his
viewpoint was exactly like that of Ned Merrill. Any deviation from
the conventional was a mistake. Any attempt to escape from existing
conditions was a form of treason. Trade, property, business,
respectability, good form; these were the shibboleth they worshipped. It
was just because she did not want to believe this of James Farnum that
she had taken him with her to call on Marchant. It was in a sense a
test, and he was answering it by showing himself complacently callous
and hidebound.

Surely he had not always been like this, a smug and well-clad Pharisee,
afraid to look at the truth. In those early days, when they had been
friends, with the possibility of being a good deal more, there had been
an impetuous touch of ardor she could no longer find. Her cool glance
ran down his figure. The man was taking on flesh, the plump well-fed
look of one who has escaped moral conduct by giving up the fight. Fat
cushioned the square jaw and detracted from its strength. For the first
time she observed a hardening of the eye. The visible deterioration of
an inner collapse was being writ on him.

Alice sighed. After all she might have spared herself the trouble. He
had chosen his path and he must follow it.

At the corner of Powers Avenue and Van Ault Street James left them. It
was natural that the talk should revert to Marchant.

"Oscar finds your visits a very great pleasure," Jeff told her.

"The dear madman!" Her eyes were shining softly. "Isn't he brave and
optimistic?"

"Yes."

Both of them were thinking how soon the arm of that unseen God of lo