the conflict-第22节

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‘‘Afraid　of　ME；''　said　she。　　‘‘That's　very　flattering。''

‘‘No；''　said　he；　coloring。　　‘‘In　some　mysterious　way　I　had　been　betrayed　into　thinking　of　you　as　no　man　ought　to　think　of　a　woman　unless　he　is　in　love　with　her　and　she　with　him。　　I　am　ashamed　of　myself。　　But　I　shall　conquer　that　feelingor　keep　away　from　you。

。　。　。　　Do　you　understand　what　the　street　car　situation　is？''

But　she　was　not　to　be　deflected　from　the　main　question；　now　that　it　had　been　brought　to　the　front　so　unexpectedly　and　in　exactly　the　way　most　favorable　to　her　purposes。　　‘‘You've　made　me　uneasy；''　said　she。　　‘‘I　don't　in　the　least　understand　what　you　mean。　　I　have　wanted；　and　I　still　want；　to　be　friends　with　yougood　friendsjust　as　you　and　Selma　Gordon　arethough　of　course　I　couldn't　hope　to　be　as　close　a　friend　as　she　is。　　I'm　too　ignoranttoo　useless。''

He　shook　his　headwith　him；　a　gesture　that　conveyed　the　full　strength　of　negation。　　‘‘We　are　on　opposite　sides　of　a　line　across　which　friendship　is　impossible。　　I　could　not　be　your　friend　without　being　false　to　myself。　　You　couldn't　be　mine　unless　you　were　by　some　accident　flung　into　the　working　class　and　forced　to　adopt　it　as　your　own。　　Even　then　you'd　probably　remain　what　you　are。　　Only　a　small　part　of　the　working　class　as　yet　is　at　heart　of　the　working　class。　　Most　of　us　secretlyalmost　openlydespise　the　life　of　work；　and　dream　and　hope　a　time　of　fortune　that　will　put　us　up　among　the　masters　and　the　idlers。''　　His　expressive　eyes　became　eloquent。　　‘‘The　false　and　shallow　ideas　that　have　been　educated　into　us　for　ages　can't　be　uprooted　in　a　few　brief　years。''

She　felt　the　admiration　she　did　not　try　to　conceal。　　She　saw　the　proud　and　splendid　conception　of　the　dignity　of　laborof　labor　as　a　blessing；　not　a　curse；　as　a　badge　of　aristocracy　and　not　of　slavery　and　shame。　　‘‘You　really　believe　that；　don't　you？''　she　said。　　‘‘I　know　it's　true。　　I　say　I　believe　itwho　doesn't　SAY　so？　　But　I　don't　FEEL　it。''

‘‘That's　honest；''　said　he　heartily。　　‘‘That's　some　thing　to　build　on。''

‘‘And　I'm　going　to　build！''　cried　she。　　‘‘You'll　help　mewon't　you？　　I　know；　it's　a　great　deal　to　ask。　　Why　should　you　take　the　time　and　the　trouble　to　bother　with　one　single　unimportant　person。''

‘‘That's　the　way　I　spend　my　lifein　adding　one　man　or　one　woman　to　our　partyone　at　a　time。　　It's　slow　building；　but　it's　the　only　kind　that　endures。　　There　are　twelve　hundred　of　us　nowtwelve　hundred　voters；　I　mean。　　Ten　years　ago　there　were　only　three　hundred。　　We'd　expand　much　more　rapidly　if　it　weren't　for　the　constant　shifts　of　population。　　Our　men　are　forced　to　go　elsewhere　as　the　pressure　of　capitalism　gets　too　strong。　　And　in　place　of　them　come　raw　emigrants；　ignorant；　full　of　dreams　of　becoming　capitalists　and　exploiters　of　their　fellow　men　and　idlers。　　Ambition　they　call　it。　　Ambition！''　　He　laughed。　　‘‘What　a　vulgar；　what　a　cruel　notion　of　rising　in　the　world！　　To　cease　to　be　useful；　to　become　a　burden　to　others！　　。　。　。　　Did　you　ever　think　how　many　poor　creatures　have　to　toil　longer　hours；　how　many　children　have　to　go　to　the　factory　instead　of　to　school；　in　order　that　there　may　be　two　hundred　and　seven　automobiles　privately　　kept　in　this　town　and　seventy…four　chauffeurs　doing　nothing　but　wait　upon　their　masters？　　Money　doesn't　grow　on　bushes；　you　know。

Every　cent　of　it　has　to　be　earned　by　somebodyand　earned　by　MANUAL　labor。''

‘‘I　must　think　about　that；''　she　saidfor　the　first　time　as　much　interested　in　what　he　was　saying　as　in　the　man　himself。　　No　small　triumph　for　Victor　over　the　mind　of　a　woman　dominated；　as　was　Jane　Hastings；　by　the　sex　instinct　that　determines　the　thoughts　and　actions　of　practically　the　entire　female　sex。

‘‘Yesthink　about　it；''　he　urged。　　‘‘You　will　never　see　itor　anythinguntil　you　see　it　for　yourself。''

‘‘That's　the　way　your　party　is　builtisn't　it？''　inquired　she。　　‘‘Of　those　who　see　it　for　themselves。''

‘‘Only　those；''　replied　he。　　‘‘We　want　no　others。''

‘‘Not　even　their　votes？''　said　she　shrewdly。

‘‘Not　even　their　votes；''　he　answered。　　‘‘We've　no　desire　to　get　the　offices　until　we　get　them　to　keep。　　And　when　we　shall　have　conquered　the　city；　we'll　move　on　to　the　conquest　of　the　countythen　of　the　districtthen　of　the　state。　　Our　kind　of　movement　is　building　in　every　city　now；　and　in　most　of　the　towns　and　many　of　the　villages。　　The　old　parties　are　falling　to　pieces　because　they　stand　for　the　old　politics　of　the　two　factions　of　the　upper　class　quarreling　over　which　of　them　should　superintend　the　exploiting　of　the　people。　　Very　few　of　us　realize　what　is　going　on　before　our　very　eyes　that　we're　seeing　the　death　agonies　of　one　form　of　civilization　and　the　birth…throes　of　a　newer　form。''

‘‘And　what　will　it　be？''　asked　the　girl。

She　had　been　waiting　for　some　sign　of　the　‘‘crank；''　the　impractical　dreamer。　　She　was　confident　that　this　question　would　reveal　the　man　she　had　been　warned　againstthat　in　answering　it　he　would　betray　his　true　self。　　But　he　disappointed　and　surprised　her。

‘‘How　can　I　tell　what　it　will　be？''　said　he。　　‘‘I'm　not　a　prophet。　　All　I　can　say　is　I　am　sure　it　will　be　human；　full　of　imperfections；　full　of　opportunities　for　improvementsand　that　I　hope　it　will　be　better　than　what　we　have　now。　　Probably　not　much　better；　but　a　littleand　that　little；　however　small　it　may　be；　will　be　a　gain。　　Doesn't　history　show　a　slow　but　steady　advance　of　the　idea　that　the　world　is　for　the　people　who　live　in　it；　a　slow　retreat　of　the　idea　that　the　world　and　the　people　and　all　its　and　their　resources　are　for　a　favored　few　of　some　kind　of　an　upper　class？　　YesI　think　it　is　reasonable　to　hope　that　out　of　the　throes　will　come　a　freer　and　a　happier　and　a　more　intelligent　race。''

Suddenly　she　burst　out；　apparently　irrelevantly：　　‘‘But　I　can'tI　really　can't　agree　with　you　that　everyone　ought　to　do　physical　labor。　　That　would　drag　the　world　downyes；　I'm　sure　it　would。''

‘‘I　guess　you　haven't　thought　about　that；''　said　he。　　‘‘Painters　do　physical　laborand　sculptorsand　writers　and　all　the　scientific　menand　the　inventors　and''　　He　laughed　at　her‘‘Who　doesn't　do　physical　labor　that　does　anything　really　useful？　　Why；　you　yourselfat　tennis　and　riding　and　such　thingsdo　heavy　physical　labor。　　I've　only　to　look　at　your　body　to　see　that。　　But　it's　of　a　foolish　kindfoolish　and　narrowly　selfish。''

‘‘I　see　I'd　better　not　try　to　argue　with　you；''　said　she。

‘‘Nodon't　arguewith　me　or　with　anybody；''　rejoined　he。　　‘‘Sit　down　quietly　and　think　about　life　about　your　life。　　Think　how　it　is　best　to　live　so　that　you　may　get　the　most　out　of　lifethe　most　substantial　happiness。　　Don't　go　on　doing　the　silly　customary　things　simply　because　a　silly　customary　world　says　they　are　amusing　and　worth　while。　　Thinkand　dofor　yourself；　Jane　Hastings。''

She　nodded　slowly　and　thoughtfully。　　‘‘I'll　try　to；''　she　said。　　She　looked　at　him　with　the　expression　of　the　mind　aroused。　　It　was　an　expression　that　often　rewarded　him　after　a　long　straight　talk　with　a　fellow　being。　　She　went　on：　　‘‘I　probably　shan't　do　what　you'd　approve。　　You　see；　I've　got　to　be　myselfgot　to　live　to　a　certain　extent　the　kind　of　a　life　fate　has　made　for　me。''

‘‘You　couldn't　successfully　live　any　other；''　said　he。

‘‘But；　while　it　won't　be　at　all　what　you'd　regard　as　a　model　lifeor　even　perhaps　usefulit'll　be　very　differentvery　much　betterthan　it　would　have　been；　if　I　hadn't　met　youVictor　Dorn。''

‘‘Oh；　I've　done　nothing；''　said　he。　　‘‘All　I　try　to　do　is　to　encourage　my　fellow　beings　to　be　themselves。　　So　live　your　own　lifethe　life　you　can　live　bestjust　as　you　wear　the　clothes　that　fit　and　become　you。　。　。　。　　And　nowabout　the　street　car　question。　　What　do　you　want　of　me？''

‘‘Tell　me　what　to　say　to　father。''

He　shook　his　head。　　‘‘Can't　do　it；''　said　he。　　‘‘There's　a　good　place　for　you　to　make　a　beginning。　　Put　on　an　old　dress　and　go　down　town　and　get　acquainted　with　the　family　life　of　the　street…car　men。　　Talk　to　their　wives　and　their　children。　　Look　into　the　whole　business　yourself。''

‘‘But　I'm　notnot　competent　to　judge；''　objected　she。

‘‘Well；　make　yourself　competent；''　advised　he。

‘‘I　might　get　Miss　Gordon　to　go　with　me；''　suggested　she。

‘‘You'll　learn　more　thoroughly　if　you　go　alone；''　declared　he。

She　hesitatedventured　with　a　winning　smile：　　‘‘You　won't　go　with　mejust　to　get　me　started　right？''

‘‘No；''　said　he。　　‘‘You've　got　to　learn　for　yourself　or　not　at　all。　　If　I　go　with　you；　you'll　get　my　point　of　view；　and　it　will　take　you　so　much　the　longer　to　get　your　own。''

‘‘Perhaps　you'd　prefer　I　didn't　go。''

‘‘It's　not　a　matter　of　much　importance；　one　way　or　the　otherexcept　perhaps　to　yourself；''　replied　he。

‘‘Any　one　individual　can　do　the　human　race　little　good　by　learning　the　truth　about　life。　　The　only　benefit　is　to　himself。　　Don't　forget　that　in　your　sweet　enthusiasm　for　doing　something　noble　and　generous　and　helpful。　　Don't　become　a　Davy　Hull。　　You　know；　Davy　is　on　earth　for　the　benefit　of　the　human　race。　　Ever　since　he　was　born　he　has　been　taken　care　ofsupplied　with　food；　clothing；　shelter；　everything。　　Yet　he　imagines　that　he　is　somehow　a　God…appointed　guardian　of　the　people　who　have　gathered　and　cooked　his　food；　made　his　clothing；　served　him　in　every　way。　　It's　very　funny；　that　attitude　of　your　class　towar