lived with realities; I know actual conditions--and
you know only what you have been told or imagined. Oh, I admit that you
saw an edge of reality in the trenches; but, after all, life in the
trenches was as abnormal as life in the movies. Each represents an
extreme. What you know of average human life, of hunger and pain and
labour, could be learned in an academy for young ladies. Yet you imagine
that it is experience! You have lived so long in your lily-pond, with
the rushes hemming you in, that when you hear all the frogs croaking on
the same note, you think complacently, 'that is the voice of the
people'. Why, I tell you, man, you are so ignorant of the conditions in
this very town, that Darrow could take you out and show you things that
would make you feel like Robinson Crusoe!"

Stephen turned eagerly to the old man at the window. "I am ready for
you, Mr. Darrow."

Darrow nodded with a reluctant assent. "I've got my Ford around the
corner," he answered. "If you would like to go up town with me I can
show you a thing or two that might interest you."

"You mean the conditions in this city?"

"The conditions in all cities. They differ only in the name of the
town."

"He will show you a little--just a little--of what getting back to peace
means," said Vetch earnestly. "By next winter it will be worse, of
course, but it has already begun. The rate of wages is falling--for
wages always fall first--and the cost of living is still as high as in
war times. Rents are going up every day, Darrow can tell you more about
the speculation in rents than I can, and the housing of the
working-classes, both white and coloured, is growing worse. We shall
soon be facing the most serious problem of the system under which we
live, the problem of the unemployed. Already it is beginning. Darrow was
telling me just before you came in of a man in one of the houses where
he has been working--a returned soldier too--who has walked the streets
for weeks in search of work. He has been unable to pay his rent, so of
course he is obliged to move somewhere, if he can find a place to move
into. Oh, I realize perfectly what you are going to say! The brief
prosperity of the war still envelops the labouring man in your mind; and
you are preparing to remind me of the lace curtains and victrolas of
yesterday. Yes, I admit that lace curtains and victrolas are not
necessities. It was a case where nature cropped out in the wrong spot.
Even the working-