"So you think a leisure class is what we need in the West," Roswell was saying as François removed the plates after the game course. Marion had always felt this lack to be one of the evils of Western life, and she looked to Duncan for a defense of her theory.
"Yes," answered Duncan. "I favor a landed class who spend their money freely and devote their time to something beside grubbing for dollars."
"I quite agree with you," said Roswell. "We men in the West live at too rapid a pace. In the ceaseless toil after money we become callous to the finer sentiments of life." Marion looked up in astonishment. She had thought her husband irredeemably absorbed in business. "We devote too little time," he continued, "to the development of the æsthetic side of our natures. I think we should have more people of wealth whose time is spent in fostering the arts; but as for men of absolute leisure, I think we are better off without them."
"There I can't agree with you," answered Duncan, "if among men of leisure you include those whose lives are given to sport. Look at the sportsmen of England. We want more of that sort in this country. A hard riding set of men who stick at nothing. Such a life as they lead makes men of them."
Marion was too fond of literature and the arts to agree with Duncan. She had known some of these hunting men and she had a small opinion of their talents.
"In a degree I approve of your sentiments," said her husband. "If you will eliminate the taste for drink, cards, and vice from your sportsmen. Give him some brains and make him a useful member of society, who devotes much of his time to the improvement of his tenantry, and I grant you that his counterpart would be a desirable acquisition to American life."
"So you don't believe in the reckless sportsman of the old school."
"I think I can best answer that question by telling you an anecdote. I was once in North Carolina looking after some property. The place Where I was staying was one of the little villages in the mountains where the advent of a stranger is a matter of momentous importance. I happened to be in the village store one day when one of those tweed-and-knickerbocker Englishmen, who occasionally go there for shooting, walked in to purchase some powder. After he had received his package and was about to leave, the lean-faced cracker store-keeper detained him in conversation somewhat after this fashion: