struck her. It was a culture that contained tolerance and charity, that
did not label a portion of mankind as its enemy, but seemed, by
understanding all, to forgive all. It had no prejudices; nor did it
boast, as the Syndicalists boasted, of its absence of convention. And
little by little Janet connected it with Silliston.

"It must be wonderful to live in such a place as that," she exclaimed,
when the Academy was mentioned. On this occasion Insall had left for a
moment, and she was in the little room he called his "store," alone with
Mrs. Maturin, helping to sort out a batch of garments just received.

"It was there you first met Brooks, wasn't it?" She always spoke of him
as Brooks. "He told me about it, how you walked out there and asked him
about a place to lunch." Mrs. Maturin laughed. "You didn't know what to
make of him, did you?"

"I thought he was a carpenter!" said Janet. "I--I never should have taken
him for an author. But of course I don't know any other authors."

"Well, he's not like any of them, he's just like himself. You can't put a
tag on people who are really big."

Janet considered this. "I never thought of that. I suppose not," she
agreed.

Mrs. Maturin glanced at her. "So you liked Sflliston," she said.

"I liked it better than any place I ever saw. I haven't seen many places,
but I'm sure that few can be nicer."