cept admit your helplessness. I say, 'save me'—and what do you do?"
"No doubt it's hard on you," said the doctor. "But you should have taken precautions."
"How was I to know?"
"It wasn't our place to run after you," said the medical man, picking a thread of cotton from his purple sleeve. "Why should we save you in particular? You see—from one point of view—people with imaginations and passions like yours have to go—they have to go."
"Go?"
"Die out. It's an eddy."
He was a young man with a serene face. He smiled at Bindon. "We get on with research, you know; we give advice when people have the sense to ask for it. And we bide our time."
"Bide your time?"
"We hardly know enough yet to take over the management, you know."
"The management?"
"You needn't be anxious. Science is young yet. It's got to keep on growing for a few generations. We know enough now to know we don't know enough yet. . . . But the time is coming, all the same. You won't see the time. But, between ourselves, you rich men and party bosses, with your natural play of the
