There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. And when I have steeped him to the lips in vice and depravity; when I have led him to the commission of every crime; when there is neither retreat nor advance for him; when he has plundered his benefactor, and broken the heart of his mother—then—but not till then, I will consign him to the fate to which I consigned his father. " "Worth anything?" "I don't know. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire.
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