ther side of the
table.

She repeated her remark. "I went over a model factory last week ... a
cocoa and chocolate works ... and I'd rather be a tramp than work in
it," she went on.

"But isn't it rather wonderfully organised?" Roger asked.

"Oh, yes, it's marvellously arranged. There are baths and gymnasia and
continuation classes and free medical inspection and model houses and
savings banks and all the rest of it ... but I'd rather be a tramp, I
tell you.... You see, even with the best of employers, genuinely
philanthropic people eager to deal justly with the workers who make
their fortunes for them, the factory system remains a rotten one. You
can't make a decent, human thing out of it because it's fundamentally
vile!..."

"My dear Rachel!..." Roger began, but she would not listen to
interruptions.

"They look just as pale and 'peeked' in model factories as they do in
bad ones. They're cleaner, that's all. The firm sees that they wash, but
it can't prevent them from becoming ill, and they're all ill. They don't
look any better than the people in the bad factories. They look worse,
because they're cleaner and you can see their illness more easily. But
that isn't all. They have no hope of ever controlling the firm ...
they'll never be allowed to own the factory ... that will always belong
to the Family. The best that the clever ones can look forward to is a
little managership. Most of them can't look forward to anything but
being drilled and washed and medically inspected and modelly housed and
morally controlled.... Oh, it isn't worth it, it isn't worth it. I'd
rather be a dirty, insanitary tramp!"

A kind of moral fury possessed her, and they sat still, listening to her
without interrupting her.

"I saw three girls at a machine," she went on, "and one of them did some
little thing to a chocolate box and then passed it on to the second
girl who did a further little thing to it and then passed it to the
third girl who did another little thing to it, and then it was finished,
and that was all. They do that every day, and the man who took me round
told me that the firm had to catch 'em young, otherwise they can't
acquire the knack of it. I saw girls putting pieces of chocolate into
tinfoil so quickly that you could hardly see their movements; and they
do that all day. And they have to be caught young ... before they've
properly tasted life. They wouldn't do it otherwise, I suppose. That's
your factory system f