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IV--UNDERNEATH
Under the stars one may reach upward and touch resignation, whatever the
evil thing may be, but in the heat and stress of the day's work we lapse
again, come disgust and anger and intolerable moods. How little is all
our magnanimity--an accident! a phase! The very Saints of old had first
to flee the world. And Denton and his Elizabeth could not flee their
world, no longer were there open roads to unclaimed lands where men
might live freely--however hardly--and keep their souls in peace. The
city had swallowed up mankind.
For a time these two Labour Serfs were kept at their original
occupations, she at her brass stamping and Denton at his press; and then
came a move for him that brought with it fresh and still bitterer
experiences of life in the underways of the great city. He was
transferred to the care of a rather more elaborate press in the central
factory of the London Tile Trust.
In this new situation he had to work in a long vaulted room with a
number of other men, for the most part born Labour Serfs. He came to
this intercourse reluctantly. His upbringing had been refined, and,
until his ill fortune had brought him to that costume, he had never
spoken in his life, except by way of command or some immediate
necessity, to the white-faced wearers of the blue canvas. Now at last
came contact; he had to work beside them, share their tools, eat with
them. To both Elizabeth and himself this seemed a further degradation.
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