appeal to the rebellious workers with
such books as these? For instance, my father, do you think he could read
Ibsen or any of the others? Indeed not; but let him go to a meeting
where he can hear Emma Goldman speak, or let him read Jean Grave, or
Bakunin, or some other writer of 'crude' pamphlets, and he might become
interested, he might be able to understand. But since it seems that
truly refined people cannot enjoy the pleasures of freedom without
being, at any rate at times, worried because of the condition of the
'mass,' what is to be done? This objectionable crudity must remain until
there is a demand for something more subtle on the part of the workers
for whom is intended all propaganda. The rich and cultured presumably
have brains which they can use to solve the problems for themselves or
to digest the things written by Anatole France and others. But how do
you suppose that I, for instance, could a few years ago have relished
Anatole France? Wouldn't you think it idiotic for anyone to have given
me such books, at that time, with any expectation of my appreciating
their refined and evanescent anarchism?"

It must have been a strange sight that of Terry sitting on his
dilapidated bed in the Rogues' Gallery, with his eternal cigarette in
his mouth, talking to Marie and perhaps to some prostitute or
pickpocket! We begin already to see the result on Marie's education:
that will appear complex and manifold, but it is likely that on many a
half-formed creature who afterward passed out of Terry's life, his words
yet made an impression which perhaps in some later darkness revived an
idea which explained and justified his miserable existence.

CHAPTER IX

_The Salon_

The Rogues' Gallery went the way of all good things: it ceased to exist
when the creative spirit was gone. Terry went to Pittsburg, as we have
seen, to find the flaw in the tanning process, and while he was away
Marie attempted to conduct the academy of anarchism. But she was too
much interested in what is called "life" to make a sustained mental or
moral effort without the inspiring presence of a man whose central
passionate ideas never changed. The personal jealousies which Terry's
philosophic attitude and idealism tended to dissipate became, during his
absence, too strong for the bond uniting the "rogues," and when Terry
returned he found that his little colony had dispersed and that Marie,
unable any longer to pay the rent, was living with