The Conflict [59]
bend of his elbow; he conventional, and she the incarnation of passionate revolt against the restraints of class and form and custom which he not only conformed to but religiously believed in. And she set stirring in him all kinds of vague, wild longings to run amuck socially and politically--longings that, if indulged, would ruin him for any career worthy of the name.
He stood up. ``I must go--I really must,'' he said, confusedly.
She laid her small, strong hand on his arm--a natural, friendly gesture with her, and giving no suggestion of familiarity. Even as she was saying, ``Please--only a moment,'' he dropped back to the seat.
``Well--what is it?'' he said abruptly, his gaze resolutely away from her face.
``Victor was telling me this morning about his talk with you,'' she said in her rapid, energetic way. ``He was depressed because he had failed. But I felt sure-- I feel sure--that he hasn't. In our talk the other day, Mr. Hull, I got a clear idea of your character. A woman understands better. And I know that, after Victor told you the plain truth about the situation, you couldn't go on.''
David looked round rather wildly, swallowed hard several times, said hoarsely: ``I won't, if you'll marry me.''
But for a slight change of expression or of color Davy would have thought she had not heard--or perhaps that he had imagined he was uttering the words that forced themselves to his lips in spite of his efforts to suppress them. For she went on in the same impetuous, friendly way:
``It seemed to me that you have an instinct for the right that's unusual in men of your class. At least, I think it's unusual. I confess I've not known any man of your class except you--and I know you very slightly. It was I that persuaded Victor to go to you. He believes that a man's class feeling controls him-- makes his moral sense--compels his actions. But I thought you were an exception--and he yielded after I urged him a while.''
``I don't know WHAT I am,'' said Hull gloomily. ``I think I want to do right. But--what is right? Not theoretical right, but the practical, workable thing?''
``That's true,'' conceded Selma. ``We can't always be certain what's right. But can't we always know what's wrong? And, Mr. Hull, it is wrong--altogether wrong--and YOU know it's wrong--to lend your name and your influence and your reputation to that crowd. They'd let you do a little good--why? To make their professions of reform seem plausible. To fool the people into trusting them again. And under cover of the little good you were showily doing, how much mischief they'd do! If you'll go back over the history of this town--of any town--of any country--you'll find that most of the wicked things--the things that pile the burdens on the shoulders of the poor--the masses-- most of the wicked things have been done under cover of just such men as you, used as figureheads.''
``But I want to build up a new party--a party of honest men, honestly led,'' said Davy.
``Led by your sort of young men? I mean young men of your class.
Led by young lawyers and merchants and young fellows living on inherited incomes? Don't you see that's impossible,'' cried Selma. ``They are all living off the labor of others. Their whole idea of life is exploiting the masses--is reaping where they have not sown or reaping not only what they've sown but also what others have sown--for they couldn't buy luxury and all the so-called refinements of life for themselves and their idle families merely with what they themselves could earn. How can you build up a really HONEST party with such men? They may mean well. They no doubt are honest, up to a certain point. But they will side with their class, in every crisis. And their class is the exploiting class.''
``I don't agree with you,'' said Davy. ``You are not fair to us.''
``How!'' demanded Selma.
``I couldn't argue with you,'' replied Hull. ``All I'll say is that you've seen only the one side--only the side of the working class.''
``That toils without ceasing--its
He stood up. ``I must go--I really must,'' he said, confusedly.
She laid her small, strong hand on his arm--a natural, friendly gesture with her, and giving no suggestion of familiarity. Even as she was saying, ``Please--only a moment,'' he dropped back to the seat.
``Well--what is it?'' he said abruptly, his gaze resolutely away from her face.
``Victor was telling me this morning about his talk with you,'' she said in her rapid, energetic way. ``He was depressed because he had failed. But I felt sure-- I feel sure--that he hasn't. In our talk the other day, Mr. Hull, I got a clear idea of your character. A woman understands better. And I know that, after Victor told you the plain truth about the situation, you couldn't go on.''
David looked round rather wildly, swallowed hard several times, said hoarsely: ``I won't, if you'll marry me.''
But for a slight change of expression or of color Davy would have thought she had not heard--or perhaps that he had imagined he was uttering the words that forced themselves to his lips in spite of his efforts to suppress them. For she went on in the same impetuous, friendly way:
``It seemed to me that you have an instinct for the right that's unusual in men of your class. At least, I think it's unusual. I confess I've not known any man of your class except you--and I know you very slightly. It was I that persuaded Victor to go to you. He believes that a man's class feeling controls him-- makes his moral sense--compels his actions. But I thought you were an exception--and he yielded after I urged him a while.''
``I don't know WHAT I am,'' said Hull gloomily. ``I think I want to do right. But--what is right? Not theoretical right, but the practical, workable thing?''
``That's true,'' conceded Selma. ``We can't always be certain what's right. But can't we always know what's wrong? And, Mr. Hull, it is wrong--altogether wrong--and YOU know it's wrong--to lend your name and your influence and your reputation to that crowd. They'd let you do a little good--why? To make their professions of reform seem plausible. To fool the people into trusting them again. And under cover of the little good you were showily doing, how much mischief they'd do! If you'll go back over the history of this town--of any town--of any country--you'll find that most of the wicked things--the things that pile the burdens on the shoulders of the poor--the masses-- most of the wicked things have been done under cover of just such men as you, used as figureheads.''
``But I want to build up a new party--a party of honest men, honestly led,'' said Davy.
``Led by your sort of young men? I mean young men of your class.
Led by young lawyers and merchants and young fellows living on inherited incomes? Don't you see that's impossible,'' cried Selma. ``They are all living off the labor of others. Their whole idea of life is exploiting the masses--is reaping where they have not sown or reaping not only what they've sown but also what others have sown--for they couldn't buy luxury and all the so-called refinements of life for themselves and their idle families merely with what they themselves could earn. How can you build up a really HONEST party with such men? They may mean well. They no doubt are honest, up to a certain point. But they will side with their class, in every crisis. And their class is the exploiting class.''
``I don't agree with you,'' said Davy. ``You are not fair to us.''
``How!'' demanded Selma.
``I couldn't argue with you,'' replied Hull. ``All I'll say is that you've seen only the one side--only the side of the working class.''
``That toils without ceasing--its