“And what becomes of all these handsome, dashing, prosperous people then?” she asked.
“Nothing worse than what becomes of us. They will be left with a great deal more than they deserve, because they’ve never lifted their fingers to help the real good of the world. The revolution in this country, when it comes, will be bloodless—merely a readjustment in conformity with reason and justice. We’re out against the system, not against the individual which battens on it. When we make war on rats and sparrows and wood pigeons, we’re not quarrelling with the individual rat or sparrow, but against the class. They’ve got to go, because they’re unsocial and harm the community and take for themselves what was grown and garnered for their betters. And that’s what the classes are doing. They take for themselves what was earned by their betters.”
“Because we justify our existence and they do not. Our lives are a round of work; their lives are a round of luxury and pleasure. We earn the money and they spend it. We save and they waste. Do they spend it on the community? No. They spend it on themselves.”
“So are we. And taxing is a wrong system anyway. All sources of wealth ought to pour straight into the State and return to everybody in the shape of dignified conditions of life. Money is the source of all evil to people and it ought not to be handled by people, but by the State. If you once knock the idea of money out of the human mind and teach it to think in different values and occupy itself, not with mean necessities and still meaner luxuries and possessions, but the things of the soul—then you get on a higher plane at once.”
But she was more interested in things as they were. A man or two obviously admired her, and the fact that she sat beside Kellock did not seem to prevent their open admiration. This cheered her and put her into good spirits.
“How cheeky the gentlemen are,” she said. “They don’t seem to have any manners at all. They look at you that bold, as if they’d known you all their lives.”
“Because they’re rich and know that money is power. These silk-hatted brutes have got nothing better to do than to make eyes at every pretty woman they pass. Many of them have never done a stroke of honest work in their lives, and never intend to. They are lower than the tom cats and yet—that’s the amazing thing—satisfied with themselves—pleased with themselves—and treated as decent members of society by the trash like them. I’d have them breaking stones if I could, instead of insulting women with their goggling eyes.”