“What is your notion,” she asked him, tremendously moved by the clear-sighted wisdom of this quiet little man, “of the outcome of all this? Where will it end? From your distance can you see whether we of the West are headed towards greater wisdom or destruction?”
“Who can tell? The great nation or people or civilization is not that one which has the greatest brute strength but the one which can serve mankind best. The machine has been created—and it in turn is mastering its creators. I have been in your country many times and I feel that only your Negroes have successfully resisted mechanization—they yet can laugh and they yet can enjoy the benefits of the machine without being crushed by it. …”
As they drove homeward Jimmie, somewhat irritably, asked her: “What were you and that Chink talking about so long?”
“He was telling me about his country. It was very interesting, too,” she answered him. Remembering his reception of the night before of Meekins’ opinions, she knew it was unwise to tell him all that she and this wise little yellow man had discussed. But long after she was in her bed she lay awake, looking out across the deserted expanse of the Square. Her discontent was taking form. She felt a new confidence filling her as she realized that perhaps there was some valid basis for the vague unrest which had been troubling her. As she hovered in that indefinite land between sleep and wakefulness, she mumbled to herself: “I don’t know what I can do about it all, I’m sure, but there’s emptiness, emptiness, everywhere” From the room beyond there came the steady, rhythmic sound of Jimmie snoring. …