CHAPTER X.
A GLIMPSE AT THE PARASITES.
The Longmeadow Country Club, on the Saturday afternoon following Armstrong's abrupt dismissal, was a scene of gaiety and beauty without compare.

Set in broad acres of wood and lawn, the club-house proudly dominated far-flung golf-links and nearer tennis-courts.

Shining motors stood parked on the plaza before the club garage, each valued at several years' wages of a workingman.

Men and women--exploiters all, or parasites--elegantly and coolly clad in white, smote the swift sphere upon the tennis-court, with jest and laughter.

Others, attended by caddies--mere proletarian scum, bent beneath the weight of cleeks and brassies--moved across the smooth-cropped links, kept in condition by grazing sheep and by steam-rollers.