Pinkerton. Well, you've
got to put it that way plainly, and see how you like
the sound of it: my friend Pinkerton is in danger of
the New Jerusalem, I am in danger of San Quentin; which
risk do I propose to run?"
"That's an ugly way to put it," I objected, "and
perhaps hardly fair. There's right and wrong to be
considered."
"Don't know the parties," replied Nares; "and I'm
coming to them, anyway. For it strikes me, when it
came to smuggling opium, you walked right up?"
"So I did," I said. "Sick I am to have to say it."
"All the same," continued Nares, "you went into the
opium-smuggling with your head down; and a good deal of
fussing I've listened to, that you hadn't more of it to
smuggle. Now, maybe your partner's not quite fixed the
same as you are; maybe he sees precious little
difference between the one thing and the other."
"You could not say truer: he sees none, I do believe,"
cried I; "and though I see one, I could never tell you
how."
"We never can," said the oracular Nares; "taste is all
a matter of opinion.
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