ut! Look wide!'

"Katie--you aren't going to save men by putting them at back-breaking
work under brutalized guards. You aren't going to redeem men by
belittling them. You're going to save them by making them _see_. And the
crime of our whole system of punishments is that it does all in its
power, not to make them see, but to shut them out from seeing...."

In the letters which followed he told her other things, things he had
done, the work he hoped to do, what he wanted to do with his life. Told
it with the simplicity of sincerity, the fine seriousness untainted with
the self-consciousness called modesty.

He believed he could work with men; things he had already done made him
believe he could do more, bigger things. He wanted to help fight the
battles of the people who worked; not with any soldier of fortune notion,
but because he was one of those people, because he had suffered as one of
those people, and believed he saw their way more clearly than the mass of
them were seeing it.

And he wanted to write about men; had some reason for believing he could.
He was hoping that his play would open the way to many other things; it
looked as though it were going to be put on.

He told of his feeling for it. "More than a showing up and a getting
even, though there _is_ that. It will be no prancing steed and clanking
saber picture of the army. More digging of clay than waving of the flag.
I see significant things arising from that survival of autocracy in a
democracy, an interesting study in the bitter things coming out of the
relation of the forms and habits of a vanishing order to the aspirations
and tendencies of a forming one. And in that bending of spirit to form,
the army codes and standards making for the army habit of mind, the army
snobbishness and narrowness. The things that shape men, until a given
body of men have particular characteristics, particular limitations. You
said that if you loved them for nothing else you would love army people
for their hospitality. But in the higher sense of that beautiful word
they are the least hospitable of people. Their latch string of the spirit
is not out. Their minds are tight--fixed. They have not that openness of
spirit and flexibility of mind that make for wider visioning.

"And it's not that they haven't, but why they haven't, brings one
to the vein.

"Yes, I got the article you sent me, written by your army friend,
eloquent over the splendid things war has done for