to die out: they will no longer be bred to the
same extent as formerly. We can't blame the horses for allowing
themselves to be exterminated. They have not sufficient intelligence
to understand what's being done. Therefore they will submit tamely to
the extinction of the greater number of their kind.

'As we have seen, a great deal of the work which was formerly done by
human beings is now being done by machinery. This machinery belongs to
a few people: it is worked for the benefit of those few, just the same
as were the human beings it displaced. These Few have no longer any
need of the services of so many human workers, so they propose to
exterminate them! The unnecessary human beings are to be allowed to
starve to death! And they are also to be taught that it is wrong to
marry and breed children, because the Sacred Few do not require so many
people to work for them as before!'

'Yes, and you'll never be able to prevent it, mate!' shouted Crass.

'Why can't we?'

'Because it can't be done!' cried Crass fiercely. 'It's impossible!'

'You're always sayin' that everything's all wrong,' complained Harlow,
'but why the 'ell don't you tell us 'ow they're goin' to be put right?'

'It doesn't seem to me as if any of you really wish to know. I believe
that even if it were proved that it could be done, most of you would be
sorry and would do all you could to prevent it.'

''E don't know 'isself,' sneered Crass. 'Accordin' to 'im, Tariff
Reform ain't no bloody good--Free Trade ain't no bloody good, and
everybody else is wrong! But when you arst 'im what ought to be
done--'e's flummoxed.'

Crass did not feel very satisfied with the result of this machinery
argument, but he consoled himself with the reflection that he would be
able to flatten out his opponent on another subject. The cutting from
the Obscurer which he had in his pocket would take a bit of answering!
When you have a thing in print--in black and white--why there it is,
and you can't get away from it! If it wasn't right, a paper like that
would never have printed it. However, as it was now nearly half past
eight, he resolved to defer this triumph till another occasion. It was
too good a thing to be disposed of in a hurry.

Chapter 8

The Cap on the Stairs

After breakfast, when they were working together in the drawing-room,
Easton, desiring to do Owen a good turn, thought he would put him on
his guard, and repeated to him in a whispe