“Then we would begin to sit in the darkness in the house and hold each other's hands. We would forgive things that had been said and play a sort of game, chasing each other about the room in the darkness and knocking against the chairs and laughing. Then we would begin to look at each other and kiss. Presently there would be another baby.” The barber threw up his hands with a gesture of impatience. His voice lost its softer, reminiscent quality. “Such times didn't last,” he said. “On the whole it was no life to live. I came away. The children are in a state institution and she has gone back to her work in the office. The town hates me. They have made a heroine of her. I'm here talking to you with these whiskers on my face so that people from my town wouldn't know me if they came along. I'm a barber and I would shave them off fast enough if it wasn't for that.” A woman walking past looked back at McGregor. In her eyes lurked an invitation. It reminded him of something in the eyes of the pale daughter of the undertaker of Coal Creek. An uneasy tremor ran through him. “What do you do about women now?” he asked. The voice of the smaller man arose harsh and excited in the evening air. “I get the feeling taken out of me as a man would have a tooth fixed,” he said. “I pay money for the service and keep my mind on what I want to do. There are plenty of women for that, women who are good for that only. When I first came here I used to wander about at night, wanting to go to my room and work but with my mind and my will paralysed by that feeling. I don't do that now and I won't again. What I do many men do--good men--men who do good work. What's the use thinking about it when you only run against a stone wall and get hurt?” The black bearded man arose, thrust his hands into his trousers pockets and looked about him. Then he sat down again. He seemed to be filled with suppressed excitement. “There is a big hidden something going on in modern life,” he said, talking rapidly and excitedly. “It used to touch only the men higher up, now it reaches down to men like me--barbers and workingmen. Men know about it but don't talk and don't dare think. Their women have changed. Women used to be willing to do anything for men, just be slaves to them. The best men don't ask that now and don't want that.” He jumped to his feet and stood over McGregor. “Men don't understand what's going on and don't care,” he said. “They are too busy getting things done or going to ball games or quarrelling about politics.