ughed disdainfully. It seemed to them such a foolish
question.

'Well, that's true enough as far as it goes,' returned Owen, 'that is,
as things are arranged in the world at present. But money itself is
not wealth: it's of no use whatever.'

At this there was another outburst of jeering laughter.

'Supposing for example that you and Harlow were shipwrecked on a
desolate island, and YOU had saved nothing from the wreck but a bag
containing a thousand sovereigns, and he had a tin of biscuits and a
bottle of water.'

'Make it beer!' cried Harlow appealingly.

'Who would be the richer man, you or Harlow?'

'But then you see we ain't shipwrecked on no dissolute island at all,'
sneered Crass. 'That's the worst of your arguments. You can't never
get very far without supposing some bloody ridclus thing or other.
Never mind about supposing things wot ain't true; let's 'ave facts and
common sense.'

''Ear, 'ear,' said old Linden. 'That's wot we want--a little common
sense.'

'What do YOU mean by poverty, then?' asked Easton.

'What I call poverty is when people are not able to secure for
themselves all the benefits of civilization; the necessaries, comforts,
pleasures and refinements of life, leisure, books, theatres, pictures,
music, holidays, travel, good and beautiful homes, good clothes, good
and pleasant food.'

Everybody laughed. It was so ridiculous. The idea of the likes of
THEM wanting or having such things! Any doubts that any of them had
entertained as to Owen's sanity disappeared. The man was as mad as a
March hare.

'If a man is only able to provide himself and his family with the bare
necessaries of existence, that man's family is living in poverty. Since
he cannot enjoy the advantages of civilization he might just as well be
a savage: better, in fact, for a savage knows nothing of what he is
deprived. What we call civilization--the accumulation of knowledge
which has come down to us from our forefathers--is the fruit of
thousands of years of human thought and toil. It is not the result of
the labour of the ancestors of any separate class of people who exist
today, and therefore it is by right the common heritage of all. Every
little child that is born into the world, no matter whether he is
clever or full, whether he is physically perfect or lame, or blind; no
matter how much he may excel or fall short of his fellows in other
respects, in one thing at least he is their equal--he is one of