He affected to be highly amused at her words, but behind the mask of callous indifference the man suffered. Her words seared him as with a red hot iron. She went on:
"In the barbaric ages they fought for possession, but they fought openly. The feudal barons fought for what they stole, but it was a fair fight. They didn't strike in the dark. At least, they gave a man a chance for his life. But when you modern barons of industry don't like legislation you destroy it, when you don't like your judges you remove them, when a competitor outbids you you squeeze him out of commercial existence! You have no hearts, you are machines, and you are cowards, for you fight unfairly."
"It is not true, it is not true," he protested.
"It is true," she insisted hotly, "a few hours ago in cold blood you doomed my father to what is certain death because you decided it was a political necessity. In other words he interfered with your personal interests—your financial interests—you, with so many millions you can't count them!" Scornfully she added: "Come out into the light—fight in the open! At least, let him know who his enemy is!"
"Stop—stop—not another word," he cried impatiently, "you have diagnosed the disease. What of the remedy? Are you prepared to reconstruct human nature?"
Confronting each other, their eyes met and he regarded her without resentment, almost with tenderness. He felt strangely drawn towards this woman who had defied and accused him, and made him see the world in a new light.
"I don't deny," he admitted reluctantly, "that things seem to be as you describe them, but it is part of the process of evolution."
"No," she protested, "it is the work of God!"
"It is evolution!" he insisted.
"Ah, that's it," she retorted, "you evolve new ideas, new schemes, new tricks—you all worship different gods—gods of your own making!"