“Imitation; I can imitate any sound. But where do all these fleas _come_ from?” “The floor, the floor, I fear.” “Heaven and earth! We must leave at once.” “Well, I think perhaps with perchloride in the cracks ...” “Meantime?” “We must do our best.” “It goes from the brain to the toes.” “To the _toes_. But only for the unfortunate possessors of thin skins. And them, the wretches seek. If there were in the universe only one flea, it would make straight for me.” Her voice ended on a childish wail. _Fleee_, she had said, making it innocent and pretty. “Do you mean to say there are people ...” “I do indeed. During my first period of training in the slums I was amazed at the complete insensibility of many of my fellow-workers. Amazed, and under the circumstances, envious.” “Oh, I don’t envy them a bit. Those people with skins like felt; they miss everything.” “I agree. At the same time, I think a moderately thick skin is a boon. I see no disadvantage in escaping intolerable discomforts. It is possible to have too thin a skin.” “For survival, yes. Blond people are dying out, they say.” “Blondes have not a monopoly of thin skins.” “No. I have a friend who slums. She loathes the poor.” “Dear, dear; a most unfortunate qualification for her work.” “Not their poverty. Their sameness. She is one of the kindest people I know.” “Strange....” “They ought to be pensioned.” “The poor?” “Everybody. I should love to be pensioned.” “And remain in idleness and dependence? Oh, no.” “Not dependence. Interdependence. No compulsion.” “What would you do?” “Spend several years staring; and then go round the world.” “You are delightful! I am not sure that I approve of the years of staring. But to go round the world would, of course, be most enchanting.” “Yes: but I should not want to improve my mind. I should still stare. If I went. Probably I shouldn’t go. Nothing short of dynamite will shift me. I am astounded to find myself shifted here.” “I fear at the moment you must be wishing yourself safely back again.” She had no realisation of the adventure it was to be anywhere at all. To her it was not a strange, strange adventure that their two voices should be sounding together in the night, a double thread of sound in a private darkness, making a pattern with all the other sounds in the world. But she had accepted the compliment. There was a vibration in her voice: joyful. Again and again they were awakened for battle, until their slumber was too deep to be disturbed. 6