It is as characteristic of the homely, human countenance of Democracy as the supercilious smirk is of the homely, inhuman countenance of caste.
Arthur did not want to get up where Ross was seated in such elegant state; he wanted to tear Ross, all the Rosses down.

"The damn fool!" he fumed.

"He goes lounging about, wasting the money _we_ make.

It's all wrong.

And if we weren't a herd of tame asses, we wouldn't permit it." And now he began to feel that he was the superior of this showy idler, that his own garments and dinner pail and used hands were the titles to a nobility which could justly look down upon those who filched from the treasury of the toiler the means to buzz and flit and glitter in dronelike ease.