fiendishly subtle will, and he could triumph. And he knew it. Somers had once had a Jewish friend with this wonderful, Jehovah-like kindliness, but also, without the shrewd fiendish subtlety of will. But it helped him to understand Cooley. “Yes--I think the man sent me his book,” said Somers. “I forget his name. I only remember there was a feverish adulation of Lord Something-or-other, and a terrible _cri du cœur_ about the mother of the people, the poor elderly woman in a battered black bonnet and a shawl, going out with six-pence ha’-penny to buy a shillings-worth of necessaries for the home.” “Just so,” said Kangaroo, smiling again. “No doubt her husband drank. If he did, who can wonder.” “The very sight of her makes one want to shove her out of the house--or out of the world, for that matter,” said Somers. “Nay,” said Jack. “She’s enjoying her misery, dear old soul. Don’t envy her her bits of pleasures.” “Not envy,” laughed Somers. “But I begrudge them her.” “What would you do with her?” asked Kangaroo. “I wouldn’t do anything. She mostly creeps in the East End, where one needn’t bother about her. And she’s as much at home there as an opossum is in the bush. So don’t bother me about her.” “Just so,” smiled Kangaroo. “I’d like to provide public kitchens where the children can get properly fed--and make the husband do a certain amount of state labour to pay for it. And for the rest, leave them to go their own way.” “But their minds, their souls, their spirits?” said Somers. “They must more or less look after them themselves. I want to keep _order_. I want to remove physical misery as far as possible. That I am sure of. And that you can only do by exerting strong, just _power_ from above. There I agree with you.” “You don’t believe in education?” “Not much. That is to say, in ninety per cent. of the people it is useless. But I do want those ninety per cent. none the less to have full, substantial lives: as even slaves have had under certain masters, and as our people hardly have at all. That again, I think, is one of your ideas.” “It is,” said Somers. But his heart sank. “You want a kind of benevolent tyranny, then?” “Not exactly. You see my tyrant would be so much circumscribed by the constitution I should establish. But in a sense, he would be a tyrant. Perhaps it would be nearer to say he would be a patriarch, or a pope: representing as near as possible the wise, subtle spirit of life. I should try to establish my state of Australia as a kind of Church, with the profound reverence for life, for life’s deepest urges, as the motive power. Dostoevsky suggests this: and I believe it can be done.” “Perhaps it might be done here,” blurted Somers. “Every continent has its own way, and its own needs.”