There are none; and if there were, what would they care for me?
I am a part of it, I suppose--a part of the Red King's dream, as Alice says.

But what a little part! I do well if I suffer little and give little suffering, and so quietly go to help the cabbages." "I don't think I believe it," said Eugene.
"I suppose not.

It's hard to believe and impossible to disbelieve." Stafford listened intently.

Memories came back to him of books he had read and put behind him; books wherein Ayre had found his creed, if the thing could be called a creed.

Was that true?
Was he rending his soul for nothing?
A day earlier such a thought would have been to him at once a torture and a sin.