As he looked it seemed as if a cloud of dust rose from the factories, and eddied in the air. As it drew near it resembled a swarm of bees.
“What on earth is that?” he asked.
“It is the work people going home to the garden city behind the hill. It would not do for them to live near the factories, would it? The ground is marshy. There are five or six streams there. And the gas from the factories has killed all the trees. What was not good for trees could not be good for children.”
“They all lived there in my time. It was handy for work. There was always a great demand for houses. I know I had to build more.”
Serena’s eyes fell.
The flight of aeroplanes passed almost overhead followed by two enormous airships waddling along like monstrous sausages.
“Are those Zeppelins?”
“They are aero busses built on the German models. They superseded the ground electrics a few years ago. Those two are to carry back the workers who are more or less deficient, and can’t be trusted to fly an aeroplane; the kind of people who used to be shut up in asylums. They can do sufficient work under supervision to pay for their own maintenance. We group with them the hysterical and the melancholy, and people who can’t take the initiative, and those who suffer from inertia and tend to become blood suckers and to live on the energies of others. Their numbers grow fewer every year.”
Serena and Michael talked long about his father that night.