“Why, look!” he said.
And I was satisfied: for never could there have been that serenity of eye had one factory been left exploiting the labor of children, one sweat-shop, or one malcontent. Yet even while I watched, a woman, dressed in black, passed, sobbing bitterly. Tears? In Utopia?
“We are still on the earth, you know,” said Stanton, gently; “we are not exempt from tears.”
NOT long after I met the architect’s assistant. I had been worrying somewhat. I was troubled about the price of the magic casement, even though he had said that it would not add materially to the cost of the house. He caught the same train as I to town by a flying jump at the last minute. He was scurrying by, but I pulled his coat and made him sit down.
“I hope the house is satisfactory?” he asked.
“Very, on the whole,” I replied. “The door-panels warp, but no house is perfect. I want to ask you about the price of the magic casement. It was not included in the specifications, and I am anxious to settle for it.”
He wriggled, looking annoyed.
“If you like it, you ought not to haggle about the price,” he said.
“I shall not haggle,” I replied with spirit; “but if the window is as expensive as I fear, perhaps you wouldn’t mind being paid on the instalment plan.”
“If I had not supposed you perfectly solvent, I should never have put that casement in,” he returned.