"Of God! Of Providence! Of Something, whatever it is that begins and perpetuates; _something that plans_! Something that created. Something that intends life and comfort and joy for the things It created." V Rawn eyed him coldly. "Charley," said he, "you're talking tommyrot! You can't run this world into the spiritual world. That's wrong. It's irreligious. Besides, it's rot." Halsey hardly heard him. "So then I began to wonder what we'd find yet, when we had that vast, universal power all for our own--all for man, you know, Mr. Rawn. Living's hard to-day, Mr. Rawn. There's a lot of injustice in the world nowadays. So--well, I wondered if it weren't nearly time that things should change. We've always moved on up--or thought we did, anyhow--so why shouldn't we keep on moving, keep on making discoveries?" "That's what _I_ thought, Charley!" --"Something that would lighten the world's labor, and give the world more time to think, more time to _grow_--to enjoy--well, to _love_, you know--" "Charley, you're nothing better than a damned Socialist! You're siding with the lower classes. Labor!--There's always got to be labor, long as the world lasts--always has been and always will be. And some do that sort of work, while others don't. There are differences among men. Look at those professors--look at you! A mollycule in a glass jar--what'd it get you? Did any of you form a company for the perpetual sale of something that's everlasting and that don't cost anything? You didn't. But _I_ did." "Yes. And it was my dream--but not as you state it, Mr. Rawn. I didn't want to sell it. I wanted to _give_ it. I wanted to do something for the people, for humanity--for the country--you see. That is--" "Humanity be damned!" broke in John Rawn brutally. "You _can't_ do anything for humanity--you can't make the weak men strong--it's God A'mighty does that, Charley. _Give_ it away, eh? Well, let me have the second current that costs nothing, and let me sell it for ever at my own price--and I reckon I'll let you and your professor and Mr. Dutchman, whatever his name is, trail along any way you like with your mollycule in the glass jar. I want canned _power_--definite, marketable, something you can wrap up in a package and _sell_, do you understand--_sell_ to those same laboring men that you're wasting your sympathy on. Work for _yourself_, my son, remember that; never mind about humanity. And I'll give you a chance, Charley--in my company," he added. VI "Is it a big company?" queried Halsey wearily.