"Yes. I know. The ultra-Socialist's views I reprobate, but, at least, he is sincere. He is against any formal hard and fast contract, and his motive is, however erroneous, understandable. He believes it would result in an uplift--in an increase of happiness for all. He is, of course, hopelessly wrong. But here is a man who is debasing himself and others--all others--and, above all, the one he is pretending to exalt above all. I say he is a low-down scoundrel to do it. He is prostituting the highest sentiment man has ever imagined." "Well, at any rate, you are vehement," said one. "You've cut Jim out," said the other. The conversation took place in a sort of lounging-room adjoining a down-town café frequented by young men. At this moment who should walk in but Mr. James Canter himself. The talk ceased as suddenly as cut-off steam, and when one of the young men after an awkward silence made a foolish remark about the fine day, which was in reality rainy and cold, Canter's curiosity was naturally excited. "What were you fellows talking about? Women?" "No," said one of the others--"nothing particular." "Yes!" I said, "we were--talking about women." "Whose women?" "Yours." I looked him steadily in the eye. He started, but recovered himself. "Which of 'em?" he inquired as he flung himself into a chair and looked around for a match for the cigarette which he took from a jewel-studded gold case. "I am rather well endowed with them at present. What were you saying?" I repeated my remark about the two-establishment gentry. His face flushed angrily; but my steady eye held him in check and he took a long, inhaling breath. "Well, I don't give a blank what you think about it, or anything else." He expelled the smoke from his lungs. "Perhaps--but that does not affect the principle. It stands. You may not care about the Rock of Gibraltar; but it stands and is the key to the situation." He was in a livid rage, and I was prepared for the attack which I expected him to make; but he restrained himself. His forte was insolence. "You teach Sunday-school, don't you?" I thought this was a reference to one whose name I did not mean his lips to sully, and I determined to forestall him. "I do," I said quietly. "I teach for Mr. Marvel." "I know--the psalm-singing parson who has made all that trouble in this town--he and his Jew partner. We are going to break them up." "Both are men whose shoes you are not fit to clean; and as to making trouble, the trouble was made by those a good deal nearer you than John Marvel--your precious firm and your side-partners--Coll McSheen and David Wringman." "Well, you'd better confine your labors to your dirty Jews and not try to interfere in the affairs of gentlemen." "As to the latter, I never interfere in the affairs of gentlemen, and as to the dirty Jews, I assure you they are not as dirty as you are; for their dirt is all outside while yours is within."