Perhaps one of us occasionally does as
bad--about a millionth part as bad--as the average employer of
labor who skims his profits from the lifeblood of his
employees. But as a rule we folks merely take those that are
falling and help them to light easy--or even to get up again."
Susan felt ashamed to take her money. But he pressed it on
her. "You'll need it," said he. "I know how it is with a girl
alone and trying to get a start. Perhaps later on you'll be
more in the mood where I can help you."
"Perhaps," said Susan.
"But I hope not. It'll take uncommon luck to pull you
through--and I hope you'll have it."
"Thank you," said Susan. He took her hand, pressed it
friendlily--and she felt that he was a man with real good in
him, more good than many who would have shrunk from him in horror.
She was waiting for a thrust from fate. But fate,
disappointing as usual, would not thrust. It seemed bent on
the malicious pleasure of compelling her to degrade herself
deliberately and with calculation, like a woman marrying for
support a man who refuses to permit her to decorate with any
artificial floral concealments of faked-up sentiment the sordid
truth as to what she is about. She searched within herself in
vain for the scruple or sentiment or timidity or whatever it
was that held her back from the course that was plainly
inevitable. She had got down to the naked fundamentals of
decency and indecency that are deep hidden by, and for most of
us under, hypocrisies of conventionality.
Pages:
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717