"  And  you,  —  you  never  married,  did  you  ? "  I  inquired,  *
somewhat  irrelevantly.
His  semi-humorous  gesture  seemed  to  deny  that  such  a
luxury  was  for  him.  The  conversation  dragged  a  little;
I  began  to  feel  the  curiosity  he  invariably  inspired.  What
was  his  life?  What  were  his  beliefs?  And  I  was  pos-
sessed by  a  certain  militancy,  a  desire  to  "smoke  him  out."
I  did  not  stop  to  reflect  that  mine  was  in  reality  a  defen-
sive rather  than  an  aggressive  attitude.
"Do  you  live  down  here,  in  this  part  of  the  city?"  I
asked.
No,  he  boarded  in  Fowler  Street.  I  knew  it  as  in  a  dis-
trict given  over  to  the  small  houses  of  working-men.
"I  suppose  you  are  still  a  socialist."

"  I  suppose  I  am,"  he  admitted,  and  added,  "  at  any  rate,
that  is  as  near  as  you  can  get  to  it."

"  Isn't  it  fairly  definite  ?  "  ,

"Fairly,  if  my  notions  are  taken  in  general  as  the  antith-
esis of  what  you  fellows  believe."

"The  abolition  of  property,  for  instance."

"The  abolition  of  too  much  property."

"What  do  you  mean  by  'too  much' ?"

"When  it  ceases  to  be  real  to  a  man,  when  it  represents
more  than  his  need,  when  it  drives  him  and  he  becomes  a
slave  to  it."

Involuntarily  I  thought  of  my  new  house,  —  not  a  soothing
reflection.
"But  who  is  going  to  decree  how  much  property  a  man
should  have  ?  "

"Nobody  —  everybody.    That    will    gradually    tend   to


362  A  FAR  COUNTRY

work  itself  out  as  we  become  more  sensible  and  better
educated,  and  understand  more  clearly  what  is  good  for
us."

I  retorted  with  the  .stock,  common-sense  phrase.
