Jimmie stared. Morland broke into a laugh and held out his hand. “Never mind. The beast got on my nerves with his chariot wheels and his desecration of maidens and the rest of it. I must be off. Good-bye.”
Jimmie watched him disappear through the gate and turned back towards the groups. The pallid man was still sitting on his bench; a few children hung round and scanned him idly. Presently he rose and tucked his bench under his arm, and walked slowly away from the scene of his oratory. His burning eyes fixed themselves on Jimmie as he passed by. Jimmie accosted him.
“I have been greatly interested in your address.”
“I saw you with another of the enemies of mankind. You are a gentleman, I suppose?”
“I hope so,” said Jimmie, smiling.
“Then I have nothing to do with you,” retorted the man, with an angry gesture. “I hate you and all your class.”
“But what have we done to you?”
“You have turned my blood into gall and my soul into consuming fire.”
“Let us get out of the dust and sit down under a tree and talk it over. We may get to understand each other.”
“I have no wish to understand you,” said the man, coldly. “Good-day to you.”