“You are a good anarchist,” Farson observed.
“Thank you for the explanation. I know that I am a practical man. If our rich, our very rich citizens, would only recognize more frankly the truth I have been stating, they would be happier and so would we others. But they are very timid and conservative; they rarely get beyond libraries, museums, and hospitals. All dull and comparatively useless affairs!”
The fight-trust man sank back into his chair and smoked with half-closed eyes.
“Your talk is interesting, Hollinger, as always,” Brainard remarked, “but unfortunately this time I can’t follow your advice.”
“And why not?”
“Because it happens not to be my own money that Miss Walters desires.”
Hollinger waved one hand deprecatingly and murmured:
“A mere matter of words that.”
“No, I mean it! As I have been explaining to Miss Walters, I am really a poor man—”
“Poverty is a relative matter—science has demonstrated that.”