He followed her into a stately room packed with masterpieces of art; gleaming marbles and sombre bronze in groups of bewildering beauty, with every inch of wall-space crowded with canvases in massive gold frames glowing with the soft radiance of concealed electric lights. Stuart gazed a moment in rapture. "You must spend days here, Jim. Now honestly, with all your high-browed ideals, wouldn't you like to own this?" "I wouldn't dare." "Dare?" "No. Not if I had the wealth of Croesus." "Why not?" "It's a crime to rob the world of these masterpieces of genius. They should be the free inheritance and inspiration of all the children of men. The humblest child of the street should own them because he is human. The man who has the power to buy them, of all men, should give to the people whose lives and toil gave him his power." Nan gazed at Stuart in vague bewilderment and then a mischievous smile crept into the corners of her mouth. "You're trying to throw dust in my eyes, but I can tell you what you are really thinking. Would you like to hear?" "Very much." "You are really wondering why the wicked prosper?" The man remained silent while a look of deep seriousness overspread his face. "Confess!" Nan insisted. "Am I not right?" "Absolutely wrong," he replied slowly. "Why the wicked prosper has never worried me in the least. The first big religious idea I ever got hold of was that this is the best possible world God could have created--because it's free. Man must choose, otherwise his deeds have no meaning. A deed of mine is good merely because I have the power to do its opposite if I choose. In this free world step by step I can rise or fall through suffering and choosing." "Oh, Jim," Nan broke in softly, "I've made you suffer horribly. You have the right to be hard and bitter." "But I'm not, Nan," was the quiet answer. "I've been made generous and warm and tender by disappointment. Through the gates of pain I've entered into fellowship with my fellow-men, the humblest and the greatest. This sense of kinship has given me a larger vision. I've learned to love all sentient things. I've made friends with all sorts and conditions of men, the rich, the poor, the good, the bad. You have taught me the greatest secret of life." "I wish I could blot out the memory of the pain." "Well, I'm glad you can't. Life has become to me a thing so wonderful, so mysterious, so beautiful--just life within itself--I'd live it all over again if I could." "Every moment of it?" "Every moment with every light and shadow. It's glorious to live!" A solemn English butler entered and announced dinner.