"You certainly do."
"Did you ever stop to think, boy, that human nature is a queer thing?"
"Whose human nature are you referring to--yours or mine?"
"You know what the old Quaker said to his wife: 'All the world's queer,
dear, except thee and me--and thee's a little queer!'"
The angry young man would have liked to get a little more light on the
question, but Chairman Presson was ready for them and hustled them into
the carriage. And on the ride to the station, during the journey by
train, at the convention city, there were other matters uppermost
besides a young man's pique.
CHAPTER XIV
THE BEES AND THE WOULD-BES
Men--a swarm of men--a hiveful of men. Lobbies, parlors, corridors,
stairways of the big hotel packed with men.
Men in knots, in groups, in throngs, pressing together, disintegrating
to form new groups, revolving in the slow mass of the herd, shaking
hands, crying greetings, mumbling confidential asides. An observer who
did not understand would find it all as aimless as the activity of an
ant-heap--as puzzling as the slow writhings of a swarm of bees.
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