The persecutions of the mob always struck to degrade humanity. And when England developed, in proportion to her democracy, the same corruption as the United States, the same lack of loyalty and public sense, the same violence and the same vindictiveness, that was suspected which happened afterward—that the same types of men would rise to leadership, and her faithful, loyal heroes vanish like smoke in a gale. And all the time the remedy was at hand; no Moloch of hate, no stock-farm theory of human bodies, but the principles of Christ, imposed to save the world by leaders who had abdicated their responsibility. The mob could never understand the need of abstract justice nor subordinate greed to duty. But for some ideal, however dimly seen, it could obey and sacrifice itself with matchless zeal, even to death. Truly the Prophet Wells had prophesied of the years to come: “Not only will moral standards be shifting and uncertain, admitting of physiologically sound menages of very variable status, but also vice and depravity, in every form that is not absolutely penal, will be practiced in every grade of magnificence, and condoned.” A shadow fell across the book. I looked up and saw David. He had been glancing over my shoulder as I read, unconscious of him; and he had reached these words with me. His eyes flashed, he shook his fist in vehemence of passion. “No, Arnold!” he cried. “We’ll fight as long as we live to remain something better than the beasts; if life is a lie, or a dream, we’ll fight for that!” CHAPTER X THE DOMED BUILDING “Arnold! Arnold!” The funnel in the room was calling me, not in its customary strident tones, but with a muffled, intimate appeal. David was at the Bureau, and Elizabeth had gone out on one of her infrequent journeys. It was as if the voice knew I was alone, for it had never spoken to me before, and had never called in that particular tone of intimacy and understanding. “Arnold, I am your friend,” the voice continued. “You will come to no good in the Strangers’ House. Go out quietly by the external elevator at once and proceed toward the Temple, where everything will be explained to you.” My bewilderment changed to intense expectancy. The Temple was, I knew, the domed building that seemed to dominate London; I had seen it from afar each time David and I had gone out together, and each time David had seemed sedulously to avoid approaching it, proceeding and returning in a circuitous manner. “See for yourself the heritage of the new civilization,” the voice continued. “Do not allow yourself to be made a prisoner by those who wish you no good. Go out at once by the external elevator. Turn to the right. Walk slowly. Look about you. Your friends are watching you.”