and it failed as usual. I should have known better than to expect intelligence from that crowd. They've got no intelligence."
"How can you judge that?" came very quietly from Deane.
Bacon snorted. "They've got no heads, I tell you. Even their instincts are tricky. I wanted to get a scene of real panic. Thought if I rehearsed them the whole thing would look mechanical and spiritless. What did they do when they were faced with something that scared hell out of 'em? Stood like sheep. Never budged. Faces frozen. That's how much sense they've got!"
"It's not their fault," Deane began in quiet defense. "It's your own for expecting anything else. They've always been taught to obey; every gesture—every expression—every step is laid out for them. If they dared disobey orders they were called for it. Called hard. Fired! Then you stick a bomb under them and expect them to do just the opposite of all their training. Of course they freeze right where they are. Scared stiff. If you were in their places you'd do the same."
Binns, walking among the extra people, passed Minnie. He stopped, recognizing her in spite of her elaborate disguise.
"Well, what do you think of it all?" he asked her, a little curious to see if she would confess any sincere impressions.
"Oh, I don't mind it," she tried to answer casually. "I'm used to it."
The lie antagonized him for a moment, then he shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Poor little kids, he was thinking to himself . . . no background, no education. . . . So ready to sacrifice pride, independence, honor, so willing to prostitute themselves for the cheap return of easy money and personal popularity. Pretty faces and empty heads. A few that got on because they were clever. Most of them riding to success on the tide of public whim . . . always the victim,
