The Editor (with rising temper). More hypocrisy! Another of your damned evasions!
Evje. Hush, hush, hush!
The Editor. You try to excuse yourself with a lie! You are doubly a traitor!—And then you expect me to have compassion on you!
Evje. As sure as I stand here, I have never thought of deserting you, however bad things were.
The Editor. And you have the face to take credit to yourself for that? It is all calculation from beginning to end! You thought it would be the best way of making me remember your loyalty, and reward you for it.
Evje. This is abominable!
The Editor. Oh, you are cunning enough! You represent wealth of another kind, which at first was not entirely irreproachably come by—
Evje. There you go again!
The Editor.—and want to give it the cachet of good society; so you take care to keep friends with a newspaper that may be able to give you a helping hand in gaining what you want. Can you deny it?
Evje. There may be a slight tinge of calculation even in our highest purposes. But the misfortune about you is that you can see nothing but the calculation, though it may be only an infinitesimal part of the whole thing.