She took him up dryly. “I see. So you and father and Uncle Joe have developed your individualism at the expense of a million other people's. You have gobbled up franchises, forests, ore lands, coal mines, and every other opportunity worth having. As a result you're making them your slaves and crushing out all individuality.”
“Not at all. We're really custodians for the people. We administer these things for their benefit because we are more fit to do it.”
“How do you know you are?”
“The very fact that we have succeeded in getting what we have is evidence of it.”
“All I can see is that our getting it and keeping it—you and I and Uncle Joe and a thousand like us—is responsible for all the poverty in the world. We're helping to make it every time we eat a dinner we didn't work to get.”
Alice made a beautiful approach that landed her ball within four feet of the hole. Presently Merrill joined her.
“That was a dandy shot,” he told her, and watched Alice hole out. “I don't agree with you. For instance, I work as hard as other men.”
“But you're not working for the common good.”
His impatience reached words. “That sort of talk is nonsense, Alice. I don't know what has come over you of late.”
She smiled provokingly and changed the subject. Why argue with him? The slant with which they got at things was different. Like her father, he had the mental rigidity that is death to open-mindedness.