“I had hoped,” he says, sententiously, “that you would have gathered from my previous discourse how intense is my conviction that those who possess property should give it up, generously, spontaneously, for the good of all, before awaiting that inevitable retribution which will fall on them if they continue to insult the People by their display of wealth, unearned and unjustified; for the riches of the noble and the millionaire are as absolutely theft as any stolen goods obtained by violence and fraud, and do continually provoke the crimes which they so savagely denounce and punish----” “Humph! That’s strong,” mutters the duke. “La Propriété c’est le vol,” murmurs Cicely Seymour “La propriété d’autrui, oui; mais pas la mienne!” “If there’s no flimsy anywhere,” asks Lord Marlow, “who’ll breed racers?” “Who’ll buy Comet clarets?” “Who’ll employ cooks?” “Who’ll keep up shootin’?” “Who’ll build _Valkyries_?” “Who’ll go by the Flying Dutchman?” “Who’ll dance cotillons?” Bertram replies with dignity: “My friends, these are mere frivolous jests on your part. When the entire structure of our rotten and debased society shall have been shattered there will of course be no place in a regenerate world for these mere foolish egotisms.” “Foolish egotisms!” echoes Lord Southwold. “Oh, Lord! A good glass of wine a foolish egotism?” “Do you mean you want Local Option?” asks the duke, with some alarm. “I wouldn’t have come if I’d known that.” Bertram answers with irritation; “There is no question of local option or of total abstinence, Duke. If property were generally and duly distributed, wine would be so too; and if individualism were duly recognised, you would no more dare to interfere with the drunkard than with the genius.” “African sherry all round--what a millennium!” cries his uncle. “Tipplers all over the place, and no lock-up to put ’em in! What an Arcadia!” “Genius has frequently been rudely compared to inebriety,” remarks the practical politician; “but I have never known quite such a slap in the face given to it as this. Max Nardau is deferential in comparison.” “Look, sir,” says Bertram, addressing the duke, but glancing at Cicely Seymour--“look at the utter debasement of our financial system! What are banks except incentives to crime? What are the Bourses, the Exchanges, or Wall Street, except large seething cauldrons of sin? What are the great speculating companies if not banded thieves for the stripping of a gullible public? What is the watch you wear, with its visible chain glaring across your waistcoat, except a base, mean, grinning mockery of the hungry man who meets you in the street?” Marlow takes out his watch. “My conscience is clear in that respect. My watch is a Waterbury, and wouldn’t fetch the hungry man a shilling if he pawned it.”