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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Yellow Crayon"

But you must remember
that I am a people's man. Their cause is mine. They look to me as
their mouthpiece."
Lucille shrugged her shoulders.
"You cannot evade the point," she said. "If you are the, what do
you call it, the mouthpiece of the people, I do not see how you can
be anything else than the enemy of the aristocracy."
"The aristocracy? Who are they?" he asked. "I am the enemy of all
those who, because they possess an ancient name and inherited wealth,
consider themselves the God-appointed bullies of the poor, dealing
them out meagre charities, lordly patronage, an unspoken but bitter
contempt. But the aristocracy of the earth are not of such as these.
Your class are furnishing the world with advanced thinkers every year,
every month! Inherited prejudices can never survive the next few
generations. The fusion of classes must come."
She shook her head.
"You are sanguine, my friend," she said. "Many generations have
come and gone since the wonderful pages of history were opened to
us. And during all these years how much nearer have the serf and
the aristocrat come together? Nay, have they not rather drifted
apart? ... But listen! This is the great chorus. We must not
miss it."
"So the Prince has brought back the wanderer," Lady Carey whispered
to Mr. Sabin behind her fan.


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