nfess I don't see how
the details are to be worked out, but there must be a plan under which
the value of the services rendered to society by every man and every
woman will be determined, and they will be rewarded according to the
services rendered."

"Is that Socialism?" she ventured.

"I don't know. I don't think so. Certainly it does not contemplate
an equal distribution of the world's wealth. Some men are a menace to
themselves and society when they have a hundred dollars. Others can be
trusted with a hundred million. All men have not been equally gifted
by nature--we know that. We can't make them equal. But surely we can
prevent the gifted ones from preying upon those who are not gifted. That
is what the coming reorganization of society will aim to do."

"It is very interesting," she said. "And very deep. I have never heard
it discussed before. Why don't people think about these things more?"

"I don't know," he answered, "but I suppose it is because they are too
busy in the fight. When a self was dodging Battle Ax he hadn't much time
to think about evolving a Magna Charta. But most of all I suppose it is
just natural laziness. People refuse to think. It calls for effort. Most
people would find it easier to pitch a load of hay than to think of a
new thought."

The moon was now well up; the smoke clouds had been scattered by the
breeze; the sky was studded with diamonds. Zen had a feeling of being
very happy. True, a certain haunting spectre at times would break into
her consciousness, but in the companionship of such a man as Grant she
could easily beat it off. She studied the face in the moon, and invited
her soul. She was living through a new experience--an experience she
could not understand. In spite of the discomfort of her injuries, in
spite of the events of the day, she was very, very happy....

If only that horrid memory of Drazk would not keep tormenting her! She
began to have some glimpse of what remorse must mean. She did not blame
herself; she could not have done otherwise; and yet--it was horrible to
think about, and it would not stay away. She felt a tremendous desire to
tell Grant all about it.... She wondered how much he knew. He must have
discovered that her clothing had been wet.

She shivered slightly.

"You're cold," he said, as he placed his arm about her, and there was
something very far removed from political economy in the timbre of his
voice.

"I'm a little chilly," she admitted.