"Your work. What is your occupation?" "Oh, you mean what I do for a living?" Puffing out his chest he went on proudly: "I'm in the automobile business, and I'm a cracker jack at it, too. Only been in it a month, but I guess I've made good all right." She smiled at his unblushing self-conceit. "Only been at it a month?" she echoed. "Why, what did you do before that?" The question seemed to embarrass him. "Oh, I worked hard enough," he replied carelessly. "I got up at noon, had breakfast, played golf or took a spin in the machine, ran in to the club, dressed for dinner, ate, went to a show, back to clubs, played poker till three A. M., back home. Same old thing week in, week out, all through the season. Isn't that hard work?" "Hard work--yes," she answered quietly. "I should think that very hard work if I had to do it. But I don't think it is exactly the kind of work a self-respecting man should do." Looking him straight in the face, she added: "At least, not the kind of man I would care to know----" Tod shuffled his feet as if ill at ease. Under the scrutiny of her calm gaze he seemed to lose some of his self-assurance. "You're dead right!" he stammered nervously. "But what can a fellow do? When one's in a certain set, one has to live as everyone else does." Summoning up courage, he demanded boldly: "If you lived in New York and knew everybody, wouldn't you like to have a jolly good time?" She shook her head. "I should live as I want to live," she answered calmly. "My happiness would consist in making others happy. If I were rich, I would go among the poor and try to lighten the burdens of those less fortunate than I." He laughed scornfully. "Oh, you're one of those freak suffragettes--a socialist!" She smiled as she replied: "I am a Christian--a socialist if you will." There was an amused expression on her face as she asked: "What do you know of socialism?" "Oh, it's a lot of rot," he retorted. "We see 'em in New York--lazy, wild-eyed guys with dirty faces and long hair, blowing off hot air on Union Square, organizing strikes, throwing bombs, and raising Cain generally. They're usually bums out of a job. As long as they've no money they're rabid socialists; directly they make a little money, they become capitalists. They're fakirs, all right!" Paula shook her head. Gravely she said: "I'm afraid you've got the wrong idea altogether. Socialism is beautiful. It is the one thing that will save mankind from decadence and gradual extinction. I am a socialist because I am a Christian. Christ loved the poor and the lowly. I try to follow in His footsteps." Tod looked at her in amazement. The kind of girls he was accustomed to associate with talked quite differently. Unconsciously his manner grew more respectful.