with it--a soul that translated itself by her famous grin.

When she thought of capital, of moneyed aristocracy in the mass and
in the abstract, she hated it. It was a thing to be uprooted, plotted
against, reviled. When she met a member of it in the body, and face
to face, as she was meeting Bonbright Foote, she could not hate. He
was a man, an individual. She could not withhold from him the heart-
warming flash of her smile, could not wish him harm. Somehow, in the
concrete, he became a part of mankind, and so entitled to happiness.

She was sincere. In her heart she prayed for the revolution. Her keen
brain could plan for the overthrow of the enemy and her soul could
sacrifice her body to help to bring it to pass. She believed. She had
faith. Her actions would be true to her faith even at a martyr cost.
But to an individual whom she saw face to face, let him be the very
head and front of the enemy, and she could not wish him personal
harm. To a psychologist this might have presented a complex problem.
To Ruth it presented no problem at all. It was a simple condition and
she lived it.

She was capable of hero worship, which, after all, is the keystone of
aristocracies. But her heroes were not warriors, adventurers,
conquerors of the world, conquerors of the world's wealth. They were
revolutionists. They were men who gave their lives and their
abilities to laboring for labor. ... Already she was inclining to
light the fires of her hero worship at the feet of the man Dulac.

Ruth Frazer's grin has been spoken of. It has been described as a
grin. That term may offend some sensitive eye as an epithet
applicable only to something common, vulgar. To smile is proper, may