"Look around," he said; "this is a nice home I have provided for you; I have surrounded you with fit associates, have I not? How nobly I have performed my part of husband! How you should bless my name, respect, and love me, for the true manliness I have displayed towards you! But by your patience and your love you have shown me the depth of my degradation."
"Not degradation, Richard, not degradation for you!"
"Yes, degradation, and for me, in its coarsest aspect. Is not this degradation?" and he pointed to Grif, who was crouching, observant, in a corner. "Come here," he said to the lad, who slouched towards him, reluctantly. "What are you?"
"What am I?" replied Grif, with a puzzled look; "I'm a pore boy--Grif."
"You're a poor boy--Grif!" the man repeated. "How do you live!"
"By eatin' and drinkin'."
"How do you get your living?"
"I makes it as I can," answered Grif, gloomily.
"And when you can't make it?"
"Why, then I takes it."