“Certainly not,” said the great editor. “You know the natural failing of the middle classes is hypocrisy; and we still have a large constituency with them. They like to think they are Christians, while they make their money; just as they like to have full reports of divorce cases, and call it news.”
“Hypocrisy, in the end, is of all vices the one least suffered by gods and men,” said Derwent.
“Quite so; and sooner or later the people will arise and wipe out the middle class in this country, and leave nothing between them and us,” said Sewall, placidly. “That is why I am anxious to have my paper appeal more and more to the masses.”
“But when that day comes, we—that is, the people—will destroy you, too,” said Derwent.
Sewall looked again at Derwent, with his expression of polite curiosity, as at a misplaced mummy. “Our grandchildren, you mean,” said he. “I haven’t any.”
“All thinking men are agreed as to the coming déchéance,” put in Wemyss. “They only differ as to the feelings with which they regard it.”
“Well,” said Sewall, in a tone of finality, “we can get a good time out of this world as it is; those to come may amuse themselves as they like. What do you think, Mrs. Gower?”
“I think you are all pessimists,” said she. “Surely we live in a most enlightened age; consider the progress that has been made in a few years! Why, in my grandfather’s old house they hadn’t even carpets. Now the very poorest can have everything.”
“Everybody has a chance to make money now,” said Baby Malgam. “Just think how many self-made men you meet in society!”
“You wouldn’t have us go back to those days, surely,” said Flossie. “Just think how narrow people were! And everybody thought almost everybody else was going to be damned. But we are growing more liberal every day.”