believes in his children, I can appeal to him through his children."
"Excuse me," said Cornelia, rising, "it's nearly time for the children to come home. I will telephone down to the office to have them send away your taxi." When she returned from giving the message at Oliver's desk-telephone, she picked up her Vogue again, and seated herself outside our circle, near the tall windows looking on the street. We readjusted our positions by the fire so that our backs should not be turned to her, and I continued:—
"The real business of religion is to reconcile us to our necessities. According to the powerful drive of Oliver's economic argument, the outstanding necessity to which the average American has now got to be reconciled, is prohibition. That is a rather hard selling-proposition. I don't think it can be put over except under pressure of some sustained religious emotion, or as Willys calls it, 'excitement.' Now don't you see how important it is to know what the average American sustains a religious emotion about—what he really does believe in?"
"Yes, that's all right," said His Excellency. "What next?"
