responsibility. She'd take the risks cheerfully enough if he'd let
her. But he won't. So she's miserable. I think they all are more or
less."

"But still," I put in, "to feel the burden of life is not a bad thing
for people's characters."

"Perhaps not," said Alpha. "But to be crushed under a cartload of
bricks isn't likely to do one much good, is it? Why, Omega's a wealthy
man, and d'you know, he must live on about a third of his income. The
argument is, as usual, that he's liable to fall down dead--and
insurance companies are only human--and anyhow, old age must be amply
provided for. And then all his securities might fall simultaneously.
And lastly, as he says, you never know what may happen. Ugh!"

"Has anything happened up to now?"

"Oh, yes. An appalling disaster. His drawing-room hearthrug caught
fire six years ago and was utterly ruined. He got eleven dollars out
of the insurance company for that, and was ecstatically delighted
about it for three weeks. Nothing worse ever will happen to Omega. His
business is one of the safest in the country. His constitution is that
of a crocodile or a parrot. And he's as cute as they make 'em."

"And I suppose you don't envy him?"

"I don't," said Alpha.

"Well," I ventured, "let me offer you a piece of advice. Never travel
in the same train with Mr. Omega."