death, and that as soon as possible, yet not one of them will lift a finger to save a fellow-creature from going over the brink of ruin. They will turn their noses in the air when a word from them would do some good, and then they will spend their time fussing and weeping over somebody that nothing on earth can help."
"Now, Howard," I said, "that's your cynicism, which I've so often deplored. Come down to plain language, and tell me what you mean."
"Look at the women on board this steamer," he cried indignantly. "There's pretty little Mrs. Tremain, who seems to have become fascinated by that scoundrel Glendenning. Any person can see what kind of a man he is—anyone but an innocent child, such as Mrs. Tremain is. Now, no man can help. What she needs is some good, kindly woman to take her by the hand and give her a word of warning. Is there a woman on board of this steamer who will do it? Not one. They see as plainly as any one else how things are drifting; but it takes a man who has murdered his wife to get sympathy and flowers from the modern so-called lady."
"Didn't you ever hear of the man, Howard, who made a large sum of money, I forget at the moment exactly how much, by minding his own business?"
