continued, "it seems to me that it is wicked to pay such prices for
things. Have you ever thought about it?"

"Occasionally," Montague replied.

"Of course," said she, "it makes work for people; and I suppose they
can't be better employed than in making beautiful things. But
sometimes, when I think of all the poverty there is, I get unhappy. We
have a winter place down South--one of those huge country-houses that
look like exposition buildings, and have rooms for a hundred guests;
and sometimes I go driving by myself, down to the mill towns, and go
through them and talk to the children. I came to know some of them
quite well--poor little wretches."

They stepped out of the elevator, and moved toward the art-gallery. "It
used to make me so unhappy," she went on. "I tried to talk to my
husband about it, but he wouldn't have it. 'I don't see why you can't
be like other people,' he said--he's always repeating that to me. And
what could I say?"

"Why not suggest that other people might be like you?" said the man,
laughing.

"I wasn't clever enough," said she, regretfully.--"It's very hard for a
woman, you know--with no one to understand. Once I went down to a
settlement, to see what that was like. Do you know anything about
settlements?"

"Nothing at all," said Montague.

"Well, they are people who go to live among the poor, and try to reform
them. It takes a terrible lot of courage, I think. I give them money
now and then, but I am never sure if it does any good. The trouble with
poor people, it seems to me, is that there are so many of them."

"There are, indeed," said Montague, thinking of the vision he had seen
from Oliver's racing-car.

Mrs. Winnie had seated herself upon a cushioned seat near the entrance
to the darkened gallery. "I haven't been there for some time," she
continued. "I've discovered something that I think appeals more to my
temperament. I have rather a leaning toward the occult and the
mystical, I'm afraid. Did you ever hear of the Babists?"

"No," said Montague.

"Well, that's a religious sect--from Persia, I think--and they are
quite the rage. They are priests, you understand, and they give
lectures, and teach you all about the immanence of the divine, and
about reincarnation, and Karma, and all that. Do you believe any of
those things?"

"I can't say that I know about them," said he.

"It is very beautiful and strange," added the other. "It makes you
realize what a perplexing thing