her body, he was impressed with her perfect health and vital power.
She had recovered her balance now, and when she spoke it was with
contagious enthusiasm.

"I can never thank you enough for opening the door of a real world
to me, Doctor," she declared, looking up at him soberly.

"And you have no idea what inspiration you have given the church--just
at a time I need it, too," he answered warmly.

"I've been wondering what I did here for nine years, unconscious
of this wonderful drama of love and shame, joy and sorrow about
me. But what did he mean by an army of cripples greater than the
havoc of war?"

"Victims of machinery. It's incredible to those who do not come
in contact with it. The railroads alone kill and wound thirty-five
thousand working-men every year: this is a small percentage of
the grand total. More men are killed and wounded by machinery in
America than were killed and wounded any year in the great Civil War,
the bloodiest and most fatal struggle in history. We pay billions
in pensions to our soldiers, but nothing is done about this. The
social order that permits such atrocity must go down before the
rising consciousness of human brotherhood. The employers ask, 'Am
I my brother's keeper?' and forget that they are echoing the shriek
of the first murderer over his victim's body."

"And I never thought of it before. How strange that so many people
are in the world and never a part of it."