evil, claims no leadership. Only he burns his thoughts
into men's hearts, the god-like thoughts that in his misery have come to
him, and every true man who hears him from that moment has no way but
Geisner's way. A word from him and the whole world would rock with
Revolution. Only he does not say it. He thinks of the to-morrow. We all
suffer, and he has passed through such suffering that he is branded with
it, body and soul. But he has faced it and conquered it and he
understands that we all must face it and conquer it before those who
follow after us can be freed from it. 'We must first show that Socialism
is possible,' he said to me two years ago. And I think he hoped, Ned,
that some day you would show it."

"You talk like Geisner," said Ned, watching her animated face. He had
come to her for comfort and upon his sad heart her words were like balm.
Afterwards, they strengthened the life purpose that came to him.

"Of course. So do you when you think of him. So does everybody. His
wonderful power all lies in his impressing his ideas on everybody he
meets. Strong is a baby beside him when you consider the difference in
their means."

"I wish Strong was on our side, just the same."

"Why? The Strongs find the flint on which the Geisners strike the steel.
Do you think for a single moment that the average rich man has courage
enough or brains enough to drive the people to despair as this Strong
will do?"

"Yes, monopoly will either kill or cure."

"It will cure. This Strong is annihilating the squatters as fast as he's
trying to annihilate the unions. I hear them talking sometimes, or their
wives, which is the same thing. They fairly hate him. He's doing more
than any man to kill the old employer and to turn the owners of capital
into mere idle butterflies, or, if you like it better, into swine
wallowing in luxury, living on dividends. Not that they hate that," went
on Connie, contemptuously. "They're an idle, vicious set, taken all
round, at the best. But he's ruining a lot of the old landocrats and
naturally they don't like it. Of course, very few of them like his style
or his wife's."

"Too quiet? Nellie was telling me something of him once."

"Yes. He's very quiet at home. So is his wife. He reads considerably. She
is musical. They have their own set, quite a pleasant one. And
fashionable society can rave and splutter but is kept carefully outside
their door. They don't razzle-dazzle, at any rate."

"Don't w