my personal affairs drawn into the vortex of the great world-affairs.
Whether it was my love for Ernest, or the clear sight he had given me of
the society in which I lived, that made me a revolutionist, I know not;
but a revolutionist I became, and I was plunged into a whirl of
happenings that would have been inconceivable three short months before.

The crisis in my own fortunes came simultaneously with great crises in
society. First of all, father was discharged from the university. Oh,
he was not technically discharged. His resignation was demanded, that
was all. This, in itself, did not amount to much. Father, in fact, was
delighted. He was especially delighted because his discharge had been
precipitated by the publication of his book, "Economics and Education."
It clinched his argument, he contended. What better evidence could be
advanced to prove that education was dominated by the capitalist class?

But this proof never got anywhere. Nobody knew he had been forced to
resign from the university. He was so eminent a scientist that such an
announcement, coupled with the reason for his enforced resignation,
would have created somewhat of a furor all over the world. The
newspapers showered him with praise and honor, and commended him for
having given up the drudgery of the lecture room in order to devote his
whole time to scientific research.

At first father laughed. Then he became angry--tonic angry. Then came
the suppression of his book. This suppression was performed secretly,
so secretly that at first we could not comprehend. The publication of
the book had immediately caused a bit of excitement in the country.
Father had been politely abused in the capitalist press, the tone of the
abuse being to the effect that it was a pity so great a scientist should
leave his field and invade the realm of sociology, about which he knew