“She stands apart.”
“No,” said Redwood, struggling to get back to the old footing. “That’s absurd.”
“That afterwards. At any rate we are agreed that the making of the Food must stop—”
“I have agreed to nothing. I have said nothing—”
“But on one planet, to have two races of men, one great, one small! Consider what has happened! Consider that is but a little foretaste of what might presently happen if this Food has its way! Consider all you have already brought upon this world! If there is to be a race of Giants, increasing and multiplying—”
“It is not for me to argue,” said Redwood. “I must go to our sons. I want to go to my son. That is why I have come to you. Tell me exactly what you offer.”
Caterham made a speech upon his terms.
The Children of the Food were to be given a great reservation—in North America perhaps or Africa—in which they might live out their lives in their own fashion.
“But it’s nonsense,” said Redwood. “There are other Giants now abroad. All over Europe—here and there!”
“There could be an international convention. It’s not impossible. Something of the sort indeed has already been spoken of ... But in this reservation they can live out their own lives in their own way. They may do what they like; they may make what they like. We shall be glad if they will make us things. They may be happy. Think!”