“About the single-tax theory, John, as applied to affairs of the heart.”
Fenton glanced sternly at his companion, but there was no sign of mischief on Richard’s face. He was gazing at the fire as though trying to read in the dancing flames the answer to the riddle that annoyed him.
“Explain yourself,” said Fenton suspiciously.
“Well,” went on Richard with studied calmness, “you see, I am trying to get into touch with all the new ideas that have a marked influence on the life of our times. I am, however, especially interested in watching the effect of theories on the actions of my friends. It’s almost a new science, I think. I must look up some Greek roots and give it a name. Perhaps I’ll go down to fame as the inventor of a new and very useful line of study.”
“What are you attempting to get at, Richard?” exclaimed Fenton, twisting around uneasily in his chair and trying to obtain a clear view of the young man’s face.
“That’s not the point, John. The question is, what are you striving to accomplish? You see, I have been doing a good deal of unconscious cerebration in regard to your single-tax ideas, and I have reached a point where I should like to ask a few more questions regarding the demands that your belief makes on your habits of life. Now, you know, our good old Puritan ancestors were fond of looking upon this world as ‘a vale of tears.’ You single-tax people go a step farther, and call it ‘a den of thieves.’”
“Come, Richard,” said Fenton firmly, “don’t be flippant.”
“The very last thing that I feel inclined to be, John. I’m in sober earnest. Let me ask you a question. You consider, of course, a man who collects rents from property he holds in this city from his ancestors a receiver of stolen goods?”
“Well, what if I do?” asked Fenton testily.
“I was curious to know, that’s all.”