Lily found Louis Akers interesting.  Certainly he was very handsome.  And after all, why should there be misery and hunger in the world?  There must be enough for all.  It was hardly fair, for instance, that she should have so much, and others scarcely anything.  Only it was like thinking about religion; you didn’t get anywhere with it.  You wanted to be good, and tried to be.  And you wanted to love God, only He seemed so far away, mostly.  And even that was confusing, because you prayed to God to be forgiven for wickedness, but it was to His Son our Lord one went for help in trouble.

One could be sorry for the poor, and even give away all one had, but that would only help a few.  It would have to be that every one who had too much would give up all but what he needed.

Lily tried to put that into words.

“Exactly,” said Jim Doyle.  “Only in my new world we realize that there would be a few craven spirits who might not willingly give up what they have.  In that case it would be taken from them.”

“And that is what you call revolution?”

“Precisely.”

“But that’s not revolution.  It is a sort of justice, isn’t it?”

“You think very straight, young lady,” said Jim Doyle.

He had a fascinating theory of individualism, too; no man should impose his will and no community its laws, on the individual.  Laws were for slaves.  Ethics were better than laws, to control.

“Although,” he added, urbanely, “I daresay it might be difficult to convert Mr. Anthony Cardew to such a belief.”

While Louis Akers saw Lily to her taxicab that night Doyle stood in the hall, waiting.  He was very content with his evening’s work.

“Well?” he said, when Akers returned.

“Merry as a marriage bell.  I’m to show her the Brunelleschi drawings to-morrow.”

Slightly flushed, he smoothed his hair in front of the mirror over the stand.

“She’s a nice child,” he said.  In his eyes was the look of the hunting animal that scents food.

CHAPTER X

Lily did not sleep very well that night.  She was repentant, for one thing, for her mother’s evening alone, and for the anxiety in her face when she arrived.

“I’ve been so worried,” she said, “I was afraid your grandfather would get back before you did.”

“I’m sorry, mother dear.  I know it was selfish.  But I’ve had a wonderful evening.”

“Wonderful?”

“All sorts of talk,” Lily said, and hesitated.  After all, her mother would not understand, and it would only make her uneasy.  “I suppose it is rank hearsay to say it, but I like Mr. Doyle.”

“I detest him.”

“But you don’t know him, do you?”

“I know he is stirring up all sorts of trouble for us.  Lily, I want you to promise not to go back there.”

There was a little silence.  A small feeling of rebellion was rising in the girl’s heart.