'And in this way,' demands Mr. Million severely, 'you would desecrate the Sabbath!'
For the life of him Saul Fielding cannot help saying,
'A greater desecration than even that can be in your eyes takes place on the Sabbath in places that are open in the name of the law.'
'You refer to----'
'Public-houses. If they are allowed to be open, what reasonable argument can be brought against the opening of places the good influence of which is universally acknowledged? It is the withholding of these just privileges that causes much discontent and ill-feeling.'
This is quite enough for Mr. Million. This man, ragged, penniless, has the effrontery to tell the rich brewer to his face that he would have the public picture-galleries and museums of art opened on the Sabbath-day, and that he would shut the public-houses. Mr. Million can find no words to express his indignation. He can only say, stiffly and coldly,
'I have heard quite enough of your opinions, sir. Come to the point of your visit. You see'--pointing to the papers scattered about the table--'that I am very busy.'
'I came, sir,' he says sadly, 'in the hope that, seeing my distress, you would not have been disinclined to assist me--not with money, sir,' he adds swiftly, in answer to an impatient look of dissent from Mr. Million, 'but with your good word. But I am afraid that I have injured my cause by the expression of my opinions.'
'In what way did you expect that I could aid you?' asks Mr. Million carelessly, as he settles himself to his papers.
'I have been especially unfortunate in my career, sir. As I told you, I am willing to work, but am unable to obtain it. If I could emigrate; if I could get into a new country, where labour is scarce, things might be better for me.'