They're hall the same; workin the horicle for their own benefit. You
can talk till you're black in the face, but you won't never be able to
alter it. It's no use worrying. The sensible thing is to try and
make the best of things as we find 'em: enjoy ourselves, and do the
best we can for each other. Life's too short to quarrel and we'll
hall soon be dead!'

At the end of this lengthy speech, the philosophic Philpot
abstractedly grasped a jam-jar and raised it to his lips; but suddenly
remembering that it contained stewed tea and not beer, set it down
again without drinking.

`Let us begin at the beginning,' continued Owen, taking no notice of
these interruptions. `First of all, what do you mean by Poverty?'

`Why, if you've got no money, of course,' said Crass impatiently.

The others laughed disdainfully. It seemed to them such a foolish
question.

`Well, that's true enough as far as it goes,' returned Owen, `that is,
as things are arranged in the world at present. But money itself is
not wealth: it's of no use whatever.'

At this there was another outburst of jeering laughter.

`Supposing for example that you and Harlow were shipwrecked on a
desolate island, and YOU had saved nothing from the wreck but a bag
containing a thousand sovereigns, and he had a tin of biscuits and a
bottle of water.'