t all if it were not
meant to be turned into action."

"You believe that an influence is at work, an influence that impels us
against our reason?"

"I should like to think so," he said. "Why should so many persons be
experiencing such a feeling to-day, persons who, like yourself, are the
beneficiaries of our present system of privilege? Why should you, who
have every reason to be satisfied, materially, with things as they are,
be troubling yourself with thoughts of others who are less-fortunate?
And why should we have the spectacle, today, of men and women all over
this country in social work, in science and medicine and politics,
striving to better conditions while most of them might be much more
comfortable and luxurious letting well enough alone?"

"But it's human to care," she objected.

"Ah--human!" he said, and was silent. "What do we mean by human, unless
it is the distinguishing mark of something within us that the natural
world doesn't possess? Unless it is the desire and willingness to strive
for a larger interest than the individual interest, work and suffer for
others? And you spoke of making people happier. What do you mean by
happiness? Not merely the possession of material comforts, surely. I
grant you that those who are overworked and underfed, who are burning
with the consciousness of wrongs, who have no outlook ahead, are
essentially hopeless and miserable. But by 'happiness' you, mean
something more than the complacency and contentment which clothing and
food might bring, and the removal of the economic fear,--and even the
restoration of self-respect."

"That their lives should be fuller!" she exclaimed.

"That drudgery and despair should be replaced by interest and hope," he
went on, "slavery by freedom. In other words, that the whole attitude
toward life should be changed, that life should appear a bright thing
rather than a dark thing, that labour should be willing vicarious instead
of forced and personal. Otherwise, any happiness worth having is out of
the question."

She was listening now with parted lips, apparently unconscious of the
fixity of her gaze.

"You mean it is a choice between that or nothing," she said, in a low
voice. "That there is no use in lifting people out of the treadmill
--and removing the terror of poverty unless you can give them something
more--than I have got."

"And something more--than I have got,"--he was suddenly moved to reply...

Presently, while the si