“Take them in order as you mentioned them. Murder, burglary, theft, wife-beating, cheating at cards! What is murder? Killing without justification! Does not one who approaches another in false guise kill something? The murderer takes the life; the other kills what is often more than life: self respect, belief in human nature, faith. One only kills the body; but the other kills the soul. Burglary and theft are the same offence differently expressed; theft is the meaner crime that is all. Well, disguise is the thief’s method. Sometimes he relies on absence of others, sometimes on darkness, sometimes on a mask, sometimes on the appearance or identity of some one else. But he never deals with the normal condition of things; pretence of some kind must always be his aid. The man, therefore, who relies on pretence, when he knows that the truth would be his undoing, is a thief.” “Daddy you argue as well as a Philadelphia lawyer!” “I don’t believe much in lawyers!” said the old man dryly. “As to wife-beating!” “I’m afraid you’ve struck a snag there, Daddy! There isn’t much pretence about that crime, anyhow!” “Not at all, my dear. That comes within the category of murder. The man who descends to that abominable crime would kill the woman if he dared. He is a coward as well as a murderer, and should be killed like a mad dog!” “Bravo! Daddy. I wish there was a man like you to deal with them in every county. But how about cheating at cards. _That’s_ a poser, I think!” “No trouble about that, Joy. It _is_ cheating at cards.” “How do you argue that out, Daddy?” “Any game of cards is a game of honour. So many cards, so much skill in playing them according to the recognised rules of the game; and, over all, a general belief in the honour of all the players. I have seen a man shot across a handkerchief--in honourable duel, my dear--for hesitating markedly at poker when he stood pat on a ‘full house.’ That was pretence, and against the laws of honour; and he paid for it with his life.” Joy wrinkled her brows; “I see it’s quite wrong, father, but I don’t quite see how it fits into the argument,” she said. “That is simple enough, daughter. As I say, it is a pretence. Don’t you see that after all a game of cards is a simple thing compared with the social life of which it is only an occasional episode. If a man,--or a woman either, Joy--misleads another it must be with some intention to deceive. And in that deception, and by means of it, there is some gain--something he or she desires and couldn’t otherwise get. Isn’t that plain enough!” “All right, Father; I quite see. I understand now what you mean. I did not ever look at things in quite that way. Thank you very much, dear, for warning me so kindly too. I’ll stop the joke, and not allow it to go on--so far as I can stop it.” “How do you mean? Does anyone else know it?” “I may have written to one or two girls at home, Daddy. You know girls are always fond of such foolishness.”