That was, of course, too subtle for a man like Jimmie Higgins. But this much the little Socialist got--that the heir of the Granitch fortune had been in truth a miserably unhappy mortal. And this was an extraordinary revelation to Jimmie, who had taken it for granted that the rich were the lucky ones of earth. He had hated them on the supposition that they were without care; they were the Lotus-eaters, of whom the poet wrote that they “live and lie reclined On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind, For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurl'd Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curl'd Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world: Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands, Blight of famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands, Clanging fights and flaming towns, and sinking ships and pray- ing hands. But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong. Like a tale of little meaning tho' the words are strong; Chanted from an ill-used race of men that cleave the soil, Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil, Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine and oil. But now Jimmie had crossed the social chasm, he had seen the other side of the problem of riches and poverty. After that revelation, he would be more merciful in his judgements of his fellow-mortals; he would understand that the system in which we are trapped makes true happiness impossible--for those who have too much as well as for those who have too little. CHAPTER XXV JIMMIE HIGGINS ENTERS INTO DANGER I While Jimmie wandered through the streets of this French town, letting his broken arm get strong again, the death-grapple of the war continued. In mid-July the Germans made a last desperate lunge at the Marne; they were stopped dead in a couple of days by the French and Americans combined; and then the Allied commander-in-chief struck back, smashing in the side of the German salient, and driving the enemy, still fighting furiously, but moving back from the soil of France. All France caught its breath with excitement, with relief mingled with dread. So many times they had hoped, through these four weary, hideous years, and so many times their hopes had been dashed! But this time there was no mistake--it was really the turning of the tide. The enemy resisted at every step, but he went on moving out of the salient, and the Allies went on lunging--now here, now there, see--sawing back and forth, and keeping their opponents bewildered.