Firmstone chuckled.
"Looks as if I were a pretty bad lot, doesn't it? How did you find out all that?"
"I didn't have to find it out. I hear M'sieu Mo-reeson and Daddy and Luna and lots of others talking about it. Daddy says you're 'smooth, ver' smooth stuff,'" she mimicked. Élise disregarded minor contradictions. "'Twon't do you any good, though. The day is not far distant when down-trodden labour will rise and smite the oppressor. Then——" her lips were still parted, but memory failed and inspiration refused to take its place. "Oh, well," she concluded, lamely, "you'll hunt your hole all right."
"You're an out-and-out socialist, aren't you?"
"A socialist?" Élise looked aghast. "What's a socialist?"
"A socialist is one who thinks that everyone else is as unhappy and discontented as he is, and that anything that he can't get is better than what he can. Won't you be seated?" Firmstone waved her to a boulder.
Élise seated herself, but without taking her eyes from Firmstone's face.
"Now you're making fun of me."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."