“Chris, I have not fed my rabbits.”
“Be quick! there's not much time for history.”
Greta vanished. Christian watched the bright water dripping from the roof; her lips were parted in a smile. She was thinking of something Harz had said the night before. A discussion having been started as to whether average opinion did, or did not, safeguard Society, Harz, after sitting silent, had burst out: “I think one man in earnest is better than twenty half-hearted men who follow tamely; in the end he does Society most good.”
Dawney had answered: “If you had your way there would be no Society.”
“I hate Society because it lives upon the weak.”
“Bah!” Herr Paul chimed in; “the weak goes to the wall; that is as certain as that you and I are here.”
“Let them fall against the wall,” cried Harz; “don't push them there....”
Greta reappeared, walking pensively in the rain.
“Bino,” she said, sighing, “has eaten too much. I remember now, I did feed them before. Must we do the history, Chris?”
“Of course!”