have survived as one of the fittest?"

"H'm! Well, now--what would you say about that?"

"I should say decidedly no," was the blunt reply.

A dark shade crossed his face, and he bit his lip. People did not
generally talk thus to him. And yet--this wisp of a girl! Pshaw! She
was very amusing. And, heavens above! how beautiful, as she sat there
beside him, her head erect, and her face delicately flushed. He
reached over and took her hand. Instantly she drew it away.

"You are the kind," she went on, "who give money to the poor, and then
take it away from them again. All the money which these rich people
here to-night are giving to charity has been wrested from the poor.
And you give only a part of it back to them, at that. This Ball is
just a show, a show of dress and jewels. Why, it only sets an example
which makes others unhappy, envious, and discontented. Don't you see
that? You ought to."

"My dear little girl," he said in a patronizing tone, "don't you think
you are assuming a great deal? I'm sure I'm not half so bad as you
paint me."

Carmen smiled. "Well, the money you give away has got to come from
some source, hasn't it? And you manipulate the stock market and put
through wheat corners and all that, and catch the poor people and take
their money from them! Charity is love. But your idea of charity makes
me pity you. Up here I find a man can pile up hundreds of millions by
stifling competition, by debauching legislatures, by piracy and
legalized theft, and then give a tenth of it to found a university,
and so atone for his crimes. That is called charity. Oh, I know a lot
about such things! I've been studying and thinking a great deal since
I came to the United States."

"Have you come with a mission?" he bantered. And there was a touch of
aspersion in his voice.

"I've come with a message," she replied eagerly.

"Well," he said sharply, "let me warn and advise you: don't join the
ranks of the muck-rakers, as most ambitious reformers with messages
do. We've plenty of 'em now. I can tear down as easily as you or
anybody else. But to build something better is entirely another
matter."

"But, Mr. Ames, I've got something better!"

"Yes?" His tone spoke incredulous irony. "Well, what is it, if I may
ask?"

"Love."

"Love, eh? Well, perhaps that's so," he said, bending toward her and
again attempting to take her hand.

"I guess," she said, drawing back quickly, "you don't know what love
is, do you?"