He realized that
between the abstraction of silver spoons and deliberate, organized
money-making at the expense of society, a great chasm yawned; that there
may be romance even in felony.
Soames at last felt himself to be a traveler on the highroad to fortune;
he had become almost reconciled to the loss of his bank balance, to the
loss of his place in the upper world. His was the constitution of a born
criminal, and, had he been capable of subtle self-analysis, he must
have known now that fear, and fear only, hitherto had held him back, had
confined him to the ranks of the amateurs. Well, the plunge was taken.
Deep in such reflections, he trudged along through the rain, scarce
noting where his steps were leading him, for all roads were alike
to-night. His natural inclinations presently dictated a halt at a
brilliantly lighted public house; and, taking off his hat to shake some
of the moisture from it, he replaced it on his head and entered the
saloon lounge.
The place proved to be fairly crowded, principally with local tradesmen
whose forefathers had toiled for Pharaoh; and conveying his glass of
whisky to a marble-topped table in a corner comparatively secluded,
Soames sat down for a consideration of past, present, and future; an
unusual mental exercise.
Pages:
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180