ed to your ideas, and put them through for
you. That's why I say I have no quarrel with radical doctrines--they
are coming, always coming, but"--Cord paused to give his words full
weight--"I hate the radical."

There was a little pause. Crystal, who had sunk into a low chair,
raised her eyes to Ben, as if she expected a passionate contradiction
from him, but it did not come.

"Yes," he said, after a moment, "that's all true, Mr. Cord--with
limitations; but, granting it, you've put my side, too. What are we to
say of the conservative--the man who has no vision of his own--who
has to go about stealing his beliefs from the other side? He's very
efficient at putting _them_ into effect--but efficient as a tool, as
a servant. Look at the mess he makes of his own game when he tries to
act on his own ideas. He crushes democracy with an iron efficiency,
and he creates communism. He closes the door to trade-unionism and
makes a revolution. That's efficiency for you. We radicals are not
so damned inefficient, while we let the conservatives do our work for
us."

"Well, let it be revolution, then," said Cord. "I believe you're
right. It's coming, but do you want to drag a girl like Crystal into
it? Think of her! Say you take her, as I suppose a young fellow like
you can do. She'd have perhaps ten years of an exciting division of
allegiance between your ideas and the way she had been brought up, and
the rest of her life (for, believe me, as we get older we all return
to our early traditions)--the rest of her life she'd spend regretting
the ties and environment of her youth. On the other hand, if she gives
you up she will have regrets, too, I know, but they won't wreck her
and embitter her the way the others will."

Ben's face darkened. No man not a colossal egotist could hear such
a prophesy with indifference. He did not at once answer, and then he
turned to Crystal.

"What do you think of that?" he asked.

To the surprise of both men, Crystal replied with a laugh. "I was
wondering," she said, "when either of you would get round to asking
what I thought of it all."

"Well, what do you think?" said Cord, almost harshly.

Crystal rose, and, slipping her arm through his, leaned her head
on the point of her father's shoulder--he was of a good height. "I
think," she said, "you both talk beautifully. I was so proud of you
both--saying such profound things so easily, and keeping your tempers
so perfectly" (both brows smoothed out