"Besides," said Levison, "who would you make slaves of?"
"Everybody, my dear chap: beginning with the idealists and the theorising Jews, and after them your nicely-bred gentlemen, and then perhaps, your profiteers and Rothschilds, and all politicians, and ending up with the proletariat," said Argyle.
"Then who would be the masters?—the professional classes, doctors and lawyers and so on?"
"What? Masters. They would be the sewerage slaves, as being those who had made most smells."
There was a moment's silence.
"The only fault I have to find with your system," said Levison, rather acidly, "is that there would be only one master, and everybody else slaves."
"Do you call that a fault? What do you want with more than one master? Are you asking for several?—Well, perhaps there's cunning in that.—Cunning devils, cunning devils, these theorising slaves—" And Argyle pushed his face with a devilish leer into Aaron's face. "Cunning devils!" he reiterated, with a slight tipsy slur. "That be-fouled Epictetus wasn't the last of 'em—nor the first. Oh, not by any means, not by any means."
Here Lilly could not avoid a slight spasm of amusement.
"But returning to serious conversation," said Levison, turning his rather sallow face to Lilly. "I think you'll agree with me that socialism is the inevitable next step—"
Lilly waited for some time without answering. Then he said, with unwilling attention to the question:
"I suppose it's the logically inevitable next step."
"Use logic as lavatory paper," cried Argyle harshly.
"Yes—logically inevitable—and humanly inevitable at the same time. Some form of socialism is bound to come, no matter how you postpone it or try variations," said Levison.
"All right, let it come," said Lilly. "It's not my affair, neither to help it nor to keep it back, or even to try varying it."
"There I don't follow you," said Levison. "Suppose you were in Russia now—"
