nd now we're going underground. And when we get
through, this old rock of Manhattan will be such a network of tunnels
there'll be a hole waiting at every corner to take you wherever you want to
go. Speed? We don't even know what it means!"

And again Bruce "let her out" a bit. It was _quite_ a bit. Roger grabbed
his hat with one hand and the side of the car with the other.

"They'll look back on a mile a minute," said Bruce, "as we look back on
stage coach days! And in the rush hour there'll be a rush that'll make you
think of pneumatic tubes! Not a sound nor a quiver--_just pure speed!_
Shooting people home at night at a couple of hundred miles an hour! The
city will be as big as that! And there won't be any accidents and there
won't be any smoke. Instead of coal they'll use the sun! And, my God, man,
the boulevards--and parks and places for the kids! The way they'll use the
River--and the ocean and the Sound! The Catskills will be Central Park!
Sounds funny, don't it--but it's true. I've studied it out from A to Z.
This town is choking itself to death simply because we're so damn slow! We
don't know how to spread ourselves! All this city needs is speed!"

"Bruce," said Roger anxiously, "just go a bit easy on that gas. The fact
is, it was a great mistake for me to eat those crabs to-night."

Bruce slowed down compassionately, and soon they turned and started home.
And as they drew near the glow of the town, other streets and boulevards
poured more motors into the line, until at last they were rushing along
amid a perfect bedlam made up of honks and shrieks of horns. The air grew
hot and acrid, and looking back through the bluish haze of smoke and dust
behind him Roger could see hundreds of huge angry motor eyes. Crowding and
jamming closer, pell mell, at a pace which barely slackened, they sped on,
a wild uproarious crew, and swept into the city.

Roger barely slept that night. He felt the city clamoring down into his
very soul. "Speed!" he muttered viciously. "Speed--speed! We need more
speed!" The words beat in like a savage refrain. At last with a sigh of
impatience he got up in his nightshirt and walked about. It was good to
feel his way in the dark in this cool silent house which he knew so well.
Soon his nerves felt quieter. He went back to his bed and lay there inert.
How good it would be to get up to the farm.

* * * * *

The next Saturday evening, with Deborah, he started fo