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all are； ready to be thrilled； eager to be worked upon； deliberately putting
themselves into that glorious； rare； receptive mood when they are clay in
the artist's handand Lord！ what miserable substitutes for joy and sorrow
are put over on them！ Day after day I see people streaming into theatres
and movies； and I know that more than half the time they are on a blind
quest； thinking they are satisfied when in truth they are fed on paltry husks。
And the sad part about it is that if you let yourself think you are satisfied
with husks； you'll have no appetite left for the real grain。〃
Titania wondered； a little panic…stricken； whether she had been
permitting herself to be satisfied with husks。 She remembered how
greatly she had enjoyed a Dorothy Gish film a few evenings before。 〃But；〃
she ventured； 〃you said people want to be amused。 And if they laugh and
look happy； surely they're amused？〃
〃They only think they are！〃 cried Mifflin。 〃They think they're
amused because they don't know what real amusement is！ Laughter and
prayer are the two noblest habits of man； they mark us off from the brutes。
To laugh at cheap jests is as base as to pray to cheap gods。 To laugh at
Fatty Arbuckle is to degrade the human spirit。〃
Titania thought she was getting in rather deep； but she had the
tenacious logic of every healthy girl。 She said：
〃But a joke that seems cheap to you doesn't seem cheap to the person
who laughs at it； or he wouldn't laugh。〃
Her face brightened as a fresh idea flooded her mind：
〃The wooden image a savage prays to may seem cheap to you； but it's
the best god he knows； and it's all right for him to pray to it。〃
〃Bully for you；〃 said Roger。 〃Perfectly true。 But I've got away
from the point I had in mind。 Humanity is yearning now as it never did
before for truth； for beauty； for the things that comfort and console and
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make life seem worth while。 I feel this all round me； every day。 We've
been through a frightful ordeal； and every decent spirit is asking itself
what we can do to pick up the fragments and remould the world nearer to
our heart's desire。 Look here； here's something I found the other day in
John Masefield's preface to one of his plays： 〃The truth and rapture of man
are holy things； not lightly to be scorned。 A carelessness of life and beauty
marks the glutton； the idler； and the fool in their deadly path across
history。〃 〃I tell you； I've done some pretty sober thinking as I've sat here
in my bookshop during the past horrible years。 Walt Whitman wrote a
little poem during the Civil WarYear that trembled and reeled beneath
me； said Walt； Must _I_ learn to chant the cold dirges of the baffled； and
sullen hymns of defeat？I've sat here in my shop at night； and looked
round at my shelves； looked at all the brave books that house the hopes
and gentlenesses and dreams of men and women； and wondered if they
were all wrong； discredited； defeated。 Wondered if the world were still
merely a jungle of fury。 I think I'd have gone balmy if it weren't for Walt
Whitman。 Talk about Mr。 BritlingWalt was the man who ‘saw it through。'
〃The glutton； the idler； and the fool in their deadly path across
history。 。 。 。 Aye； a deadly path indeed。 The German military men weren't
idlers； but they were gluttons and fools to the nth power。 Look at their
deadly path！ And look at other deadly paths； too。 Look at our slums； jails；
insane asylums。 。 。
〃I used to wonder what I could do to justify my comfortable existence
here during such a time of horror。 What right had I to shirk in a quiet
bookshop when so many men were suffering and dying through no fault of
their own？ I tried to get into an ambulance unit； but I've had no medical
training and they said they didn't want men of my age unless they were
experienced doctors。〃
〃I know how you felt；〃 said Titania； with a surprising look of
comprehension。 〃Don't you suppose that a great many girls； who
couldn't do anything real to help； got tired of wearing neat little uniforms
with Sam Browne belts？〃
〃Well；〃 said Roger； 〃it was a bad time。 The war contradicted and
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denied everything I had ever lived for。 Oh； I can't tell you how I felt
about it。 I can't even express it to myself。 Sometimes I used to feel as I
think that truly noble simpleton Henry Ford may have felt when he
organized his peace voyage that I would do anything； however stupid； to
stop it all。 In a world where everyone was so wise and cynical and cruel； it
was admirable to find a man so utterly simple and hopeful as Henry。 A
boob； they called him。 Well； I say bravo for boobs！ I daresay most of the
apostles were boobsor maybe they called them bolsheviks。〃
Titania had only the vaguest notion about bolsheviks； but she had seen
a good many newspaper cartoons。
〃I guess Judas was a bolshevik；〃 she said innocently。
〃Yes； and probably George the Third called Ben Franklin a bolshevik；〃
retorted Roger。 〃The trouble is； truth and falsehood don't come laid out
in black and whiteTruth and Huntruth； as the wartime joke had it。
Sometimes I thought Truth had vanished from the earth；〃 he cried bitterly。
〃Like everything else； it was rationed by the governments。 I taught myself
to disbelieve half of what I read in the papers。 I saw the world clawing
itself to shreds in blind rage。 I saw hardly any one brave enough to face
the brutalizing absurdity as it really was； and describe it。 I saw the
glutton； the idler； and the fool applauding； while brave and simple men
walked in the horrors of hell。 The stay…at…home poets turned it to pretty
lyrics of glory and sacrifice。 Perhaps half a dozen of them have told the
truth。 Have you read Sassoon？ Or Latzko's Men in War； which was so
damned true that the government suppressed it？ Humph！ Putting Truth
on rations！〃
He knocked out his pipe against his heel； and his blue eyes shone wi