It would be an ideal
life. I could afford a car, and to make this house very livable. And that
garden...between those gray high walls...in there...that would...."
She had forgotten Kirkpatrick and was staring through the long windows at
the dripping trees and the riot of green. "There is something about the old
world...in its byways like this...not in its hateful capitals...."
"Do you mean there's something you want to forget? That this place would be
consolin' like?"
She met Kirkpatrick's sharp dilated eyes with smiling composure. "This war,
and much that has happened--incidental to it; yes."
"You could forget it easier in California."
"I should forget too much."
"It's awful to think of you not comin' back, though I understand well
enough. Europe suits you all right. But...but...."
He rose abruptly almost overturning his fragile chair.
"Good-by, and as I guess it _is_ good-by I'll tell you something I wouldn't
if there was any chance of my seein' you like I used to. It's this: If I'm
more of a socialist than ever it's because of _you_! If my class hatred's
blacker than ever _you're_ the cause! _You'd_ have made me a socialist if
I wasn't one before. _Jesus Christ_! When I think what I might have had if
we'd all been born alike! Had the same chances! If you hadn't been born at
the top and I down at the bottom...common...not even educated except by
myself after I was too old to get what a boy gets that goes to school long
enough.
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