``Yes,'' said he.``But I'm not in favor of running hysterically about with a foolish little atomizer in the great stable.You are talking charity.I am working for justice.It will not really benefit the working man for the company, at the urging of a sweet and lovely young Lady Bountiful, to deign graciously to grant a little less slavery to them.In fact, a well fed, well cared for slave is worse off than one who's badly treated --worse off because farther from his *******.The only things that do our class any good, Miss Hastings, are the things they COMPEL--compel by their increased intelligence and increased unity and power.They get what they deserve.They won't deserve more until they compel more.Gifts won't help--not even gifts from--'' His intensely blue eyes danced--``from such charming white hands so beautifully manicured.''
She rose with an angry toss of the head.``I didn't ask you here to annoy me with impertinences about my finger nails.''
He rose, at his ease, good-humored, ready to go.``Then you should have worn gloves,'' said he carelessly, ``for I've been able to think only of your finger nails--and to wonder WHAT can be done with hands like that.Thank you for a pleasant talk.''
He bowed and smiled.``Good-by.Oh--Miss Gordon sent you her love.''
``What IS the matter, Mr.Dorn?'' cried the girl desperately.
``I want your friendship--your respect.CAN'T I get it? Am Iutterly hopeless in your eyes?''
A curious kind of color rose in his cheeks.His eyes regarded her with a mysterious steadiness.``You want neither my respect nor my friendship,'' said he.``You want to amuse yourself.''
He pointed at her hands.``Those nails betray you.'' He shrugged his shoulders, laughed, said as if to a child: ``You are a nice girl, Jane Hastings.It's a pity you weren't brought up to be of some use.But you weren't--and it's too late.''
Her eyes flashed, her bosom heaved.``WHY do I take these things from you? WHY do I invite them?''
``Because you inherit your father's magnificent persistence--and you've set your heart on the whim of ****** a fool of me--and you hate to give up.''
``You wrong me--indeed you do,'' cried she.``I want to learn--Iwant to be of use in the world.I want to have some kind of a real life.''
``Really?'' mocked he good-humoredly.
``Really,'' said she with all her power of sweet earnestness.
``Then--cut your nails and go to work.And when you have become a genuine laborer, you'll begin to try to improve not the condition of others, but your own.The way to help workers is to abolish the idlers who hang like a millstone about their necks.
You can help only by abolishing the one idler under your control.''
She stood nearer him, very near him.She threw out her lovely arms in a gesture of humility.``I will do whatever you say,''
she said.
They looked each into the other's eyes.The color fled from her face, the blood poured into his--wave upon wave, until he was like a man who has been set on fire by the furious heat of long years of equatorial sun.He muttered, wheeled about and strode away-- in resolute and relentless flight.She dropped down where he had been sitting and hid her face in her perfumed hands.
``I care for him,'' she moaned, ``and he saw and he despises me!
How COULD I--how COULD I!''
Nevertheless, within a quarter of an hour she was in her dressing room, standing at the table, eyes carefully avoiding her mirrored eyes--as she cut her finger nails.
