Rochester nodded.
“It will be interesting to me,” he remarked, “later on, to hear something of your adventures. To judge by your appearance, and your repayment of that small amount of money, you have prospered.”
“One hates the word,” Saton murmured, with a sudden frown upon his forehead. “I suppose I must admit that I have been fortunate to some extent. I am able to repay my debt to you.”
“That,” Rochester interrupted, “is a trifle. It was not worth considering. In fact I am rather disappointed that you have paid me back.”
“I was forced to do it,” Saton answered. “One cannot accept alms.”
Rochester eyed his visitor a little thoughtfully.
“A platitude merely,” he said. “One accepts alms every day, every moment of the day. One goes about the world giving and receiving. It is a small point of view which reckons gold as the only means of exchange.”
The young man bowed.
“I am corrected,” he said. “Yet you must admit that there is something different in the obligation which is created by money.”