d out the other side pretty soon.

"It stands to reason, doesn't it?" he argued. "The whole thing's deuced
unnatural--I'd say impossible if we weren't in it. And an unnatural
condition's sure to have unnatural results. You'll find some awful
characteristics--see if you don't! For instance--we don't know yet what
they do with their criminals--their defectives--their aged. You notice
we haven't seen any! There's got to be something!"

I was inclined to believe that there had to be something, so I took the
bull by the horns--the cow, I should say!--and asked Somel.

"I want to find some flaw in all this perfection," I told her flatly.
"It simply isn't possible that three million people have no faults. We
are trying our best to understand and learn--would you mind helping us
by saying what, to your minds, are the worst qualities of this unique
civilization of yours?"

We were sitting together in a shaded arbor, in one of those
eating-gardens of theirs. The delicious food had been eaten, a plate of
fruit still before us. We could look out on one side over a stretch of
open country, quietly rich and lovely; on the other, the garden, with
tables here and there, far apart enough for privacy. Let me say right
here that with all their careful "balance of population" there was no
crowding in this country. There was room, space, a sunny breezy freedom
everywhere.

Somel set her chin upon her hand, her elbow on the low wall beside her,
and looked off over the fair land.

"Of course we have faults--all of us," she said. "In one way you
might say that we have more than we used to--that is, our standard
of perfection seems to get farther and farther away. But we are not
discouraged, because our records do show gain--considerable gain.

"When we began--even with the start of one particularly noble mother--we
inherited the characteristics of a long race-record behind her. And they
cropped out from time to time--alarmingly. But it is--yes, quite six
hundred years since we have had what you call a 'criminal.'

"We have, of course, made it our first business to train out, to breed
out, when possible, the lowest types."

"Breed out?" I asked. "How could you--with parthenogenesis?"

"If the girl showing the bad qualities had still the power to appreciate
social duty, we appealed to her, by that, to renounce motherhood. Some
of the few worst types were, fortunately, unable to reproduce. But if
the fault was in a disproportionate ego