"It was yours—you earned it," he said.
"No, I came here hoping to influence you to help my father. The work I did was part of the plan. It happened to fall my way. I took it as a means to get to your heart."
"But it is yours, please take it. It will be useful."
"No," she said scornfully, "I can't tell you how low I should fall in my own estimation if I took your money! Money," she added, with ringing contempt, "why, that's all there is to YOU! It's your god! Shall I make your god my god? No, thank you, Mr. Ryder!"
"Am I as bad as that?" he asked wistfully.
"You are as bad as that!" she answered decisively.
"So bad that I contaminate even good money?" He spoke lightly but she noticed that he winced.
"Money itself is nothing," replied the girl, "it's the spirit that gives it—the spirit that receives it, the spirit that earns it, the spirit that spends it. Money helps to create happiness. It also creates misery. It's an engine of destruction when not properly used, it destroys individuals as it does nations. It has destroyed you, for it has warped your soul!"
"Go on," he laughed bitterly, "I like to hear you!"
"No, you don't, Mr. Ryder, no you don't, for deep down in your heart you know that I am speaking the truth. Money and the power it gives you, has dried up the well-springs of your heart."