Up here one sees too much.
Oh, my dear Leonard," she continued, "to think that you, too,
should be one of the devastators!"
He fitted his instrument into its case and replaced it in his
pocket.
"Come," he said, "you mustn't call me hard names. I shall remind
you of the man whose works you are making me read. You know what
he says--'The aesthete is, after all, only a dallier. The world
lives and progresses by reason of its utilitarians.' This hill
represents to me most of the things that are worth having in
life."
She laughed shortly.
"You will cut down those hedges and drive away the birds to find
a fresh home; you will plough up the green grass, cut out a
street and lay down granite stones. Then I see your ugly little
houses coming up like mushrooms all over the place. You are a
vandal, my dear Leonard."
"I am simply obeying the law," he answered. "After all, even
from your own point of view, I do not think that it is so bad.
Look closer, and you will find that the hedges are blackened here
and there with smuts. The birds will find a better dwelling
place further away. See how the smoke from those factory
chimneys is sending its smuts across these fields. They are no
longer country; they are better gathered in."
She shivered.
"There is something about life," she said, sadly, "which
terrifies me. Every force that counts seems to be destructive."
Up the steep hill behind them came the puffing and groaning of a
small motor-car.
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