yacht without a troop of friends. They can't go anywhere they like
unless it's 'the thing' to be done. They do everything because it's the
right thing--because if they do something else people will think it's
odd--think they're odd. And they can't stand that!"

"Well, but Keith! Who is it that's free?"

"Nobody," he said.

"I thought perhaps it was only poor people ... just _because_ they were
poor."

"Well, Jenny.... That's so. But when people needn't do what they're told
they invent a system that turns them into slaves. They have a religion,
or they run like the Gadarine swine into a fine old lather and pretend
that everybody's got to do the same for some reason or other. They call
it the herd instinct, and all sorts of names. But there's nobody who's
really free. Most of them don't want to be. If they were free they
wouldn't know what to do. If their chains were off they'd fall down and
die. They wouldn't be happy if there wasn't a system grinding them as
much like each other as it can."

"But why not? What's the good of being alive at all if you've got to do
everything whether you want to do it or not? It's not sense!"

"It's fact, though. From the king to the miner--all a part of a big
complicated machine that's grinding us slowly to bits, making us all
more and more wretched."

"But who makes it like that, Keith?" cried Jenny. "Who says it's to be