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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"A Millionaire of Yesterday"

"
"And you would set yourself to do this?"
"Why not? Is not anything better than letting him go scot-free?
Would you have me sit still and watch him blossom into a millionaire
peer, a man of society, drinking deep draughts of all the joys of
life, with never a thought for the man he left to rot in an African
jungle? Oh, any way of punishing him is better than that. I have
declared war against Scarlett Trent."
"How long," he asked, "will it last?"
"Until he is in my power," she answered slowly. "Until he has
fallen back again to the ruck. Until he has tasted a little of the
misery from which at least he might have saved my father!"
"I think," he said, "that you are taking a great deal too much for
granted. I do not know Scarlett Trent, and I frankly admit that I
am prejudiced against him and all his class. Yet I think that he
deserves his chance, like any man. Go to him and ask him, face to
face, how your father died, declare yourself, press for all
particulars, seek even for corroboration of his word. Treat him if
you will as an enemy, but as an honourable one!"
She shook her head.
"The man," she said, "has all the plausibility of his class. He
has learned it in the money school, where these things become an
art.


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