"Great Caesar! isn't all speculation a risk? Isn't the
fairest kind of shipowning to risk men's lives? And
mining--how's that for risk? And look at the elevator
business--there's danger if you like! Didn't I take my
risk when I bought her? She might have been too far
gone; and where would I have been? Loudon," he cried,
"I tell you the truth: you're too full of refinement
for this world!"
"I condemn you out of your own lips," I replied. "'The
fairest kind of shipowning,' says you. If you please,
let us only do the fairest kind of business."
The shot told; the Irrepressible was silenced; and I
profited by the chance to pour in a broadside of
another sort. He was all sunk in money-getting, I
pointed out; he never dreamed of anything but dollars.
Where were all his generous, progressive sentiments?
Where was his culture? I asked. And where was the
American Type?
"It's true, Loudon," he cried, striding up and down the
room, and wildly scouring at his hair. "You're
perfectly right. I'm becoming materialised. O, what a
thing to have to say, what a confession to make!
Materialised! Me! Loudon, this must go on no longer.
Pages:
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179