“And you think he actually liked that better than modern comforts?”
“I certainly do. Those men were happy. They lived naturally, as the Great Egg intended they should.”
Monroe-Alpha turned the idea over in his mind. There was something devilishly appealing about it. He felt, quite sincerely, that he cared nothing for gadgets. Not even for his master accumulator. It was not the machine he cared about but the mathematical principles involved. And since when did a mathematician need any tools but his own head? Pythagoras had done well enough with a stick and a stretch of sand. As for other matters, if he and Hazel were partners in the old, old, fight to win a living from the eternal soil, would they have drifted apart?
He closed his eyes and visualized himself back in the simple, golden days of 1926. He was dressed in homespun, woven by his wife’s capable hands-or even in the skins of animals, cured on their cabin door. There would be children somewhere about-three, he thought. When the day’s work was over, he would walk to the top of the hill with his oldest son, and show him the beauty of the sunset. When the stars came out he would explain to him the intricate wonders of astronomy. Wisdom would be passed down from father to son, as it had been.
There would be neighbors-strong, silent men, whose curt nod and hard handclasp meant more than the casual associations of modern “civilization.”
There were others present who did not accept the thesis as readily as Monroe-Alpha. The argument was batted back and forth until it grew somewhat acrimonious. The young man who had started it-Gerald seemed to be his name-got up and asked the company to excuse him. He seemed slightly miffed at the reception his ideas had gotten.
Monroe-Alpha arose quickly and followed him out of the room. “Excuse me, gentle sir.”
Gerald paused. “Yes?”
“Your ideas interest me. Will you grant me the boon of further conversation?”
“Gladly. You do me honor, sir.”
“The benefit is mine. Shall we find a spot and sit?”
“With pleasure.”
Hamilton Felix showed up at the party somewhat late. His credit account was such that he rated an invitation to any of Johnson-Smith Estaire’s grand levees, although she did not like him-his remarks confused her; she half suspected the amused contempt he had for her.
Hamilton was troubled by no gentlemanly scruples which might have kept him from accepting hospitality under the circumstances. Estaire’s parties swarmed with people in amusing combinations. Possessing no special talents of her own, she nevertheless had the knack of inducing brilliant and interesting persons to come to her functions. Hamilton liked that.
In any case there were always swarms of people present. People were always funny-the more, the merrier!
He ran across his friend Monroe-Alpha almost at once, walking in company with a young fellow dressed in a blue which did not suit his skin. He touched his shoulder. “Hi, Cliff.”
“Oh-hello, Felix.”
“Busy?”
“At the moment, yes. A little later?”
“Spare me a second. Do you see that bucko leaning against a pillar over there. Now-he’s looking this way.” “What about him?”
“I think I should recognize him, but I don’t.”
“I do. Unless I am misled by a close resemblance, he was in the party of the man you burned, night before last.”
“Sooo! Now that’s interesting.”
“Try to stay out of trouble, Felix.” “Don’t worry. Thanks, Cliff.”
“Not at all.”
They moved on, left Hamilton watching the chap he had inquired about. The man evidently became aware that he was being watched, for he left his place and came directly to Hamilton. He paused a ceremonious three paces away and said, “I come in friendship, gentle sir.”
“The House of Hospitality encloses none but friends, ‘” Hamilton quoted formally.
“You are kind, sir. My name is McFee Norbert.”
“Thank you. I hight Hamilton Felix.” “Yes, I know.”
Hamilton suddenly changed his manner. “Ah! Did your friend know that when he chopped at me?”
McFee glanced quickly to the right and left, as if to see whether or not the remark had been overheard. It was obvious that he did not like the tack. “Softly, sir. Softly,” he protested. “I tell you I come in friendship. That was a mistake, a regrettable mistake. His quarrel was with another.”