"Basil!" cried his wife. "You don't mean to say that man was an impostor!
And I've gone about, ever since, feeling that one such case in a million,
the bare possibility of it, was enough to justify all that Lindau said
about the rich and the poor!"

March laughed teasingly. "Oh, I don't say he was an impostor. Perhaps he
really was hungry; but, if he wasn't, what do you think of a civilization
that makes the opportunity of such a fraud? that gives us all such a bad
conscience for the need which is that we weaken to the need that isn't?
Suppose that poor fellow wasn't personally founded on fact: nevertheless,
he represented the truth; he was the ideal of the suffering which would
be less effective if realistically treated. That man is a great comfort
to me. He probably rioted for days on that quarter I gave him; made a
dinner very likely, or a champagne supper; and if 'Every Other Week'
wants to get rid of me, I intend to work that racket. You can hang round
the corner with Bella, and Tom can come up to me in tears, at stated
intervals, and ask me if I've found anything yet. To be sure, we might be
arrested and sent up somewhere. But even in that extreme case we should
be provided for. Oh no, I'm not afraid of losing my place! I've merely a
sort of psychological curiosity to know how men like Dryfoos and
Fulkerson will work out the problem before them."




IX.

It was a curiosity which Fulkerson himself shared, at least concerning
Dryfoos. "I don't know what the old man's going to do," he said to March