“Have you seen her?” she asked. “How is she?” “You are young for a philosopher,” said Joan.!

“Oh, well, one can’t help one’s thoughts,” explained Flossie. “It would be a blessing all round.” They had paused where a group of trees threw a blot of shadow across the moonlit road.

He thought it the tragedy of the world that Rome had conquered Greece, imposing her lower ideals upon the race. Rome should have been the servant of Greece: the hands directed by the brain. She would have made roads and harbours, conducted the traffic, reared the market place. She knew of the steam engine, employed it for pumping water in the age of the Antonines. Sooner or later, she would have placed it on rails, and in ships. Rome should have been the policeman, keeping the world in order, making it a fit habitation. Her mistake was in regarding these things as an end in themselves, dreaming of nothing beyond. From her we had inherited the fallacy that man was made for the world, not the world for man. Rome organized only for man’s body. Greece would have legislated for his soul. “That’s like you women,” he answered with a smile. “You pretend to be superior; and then you copy us.” “Tell me,” she said. “What is God?”