"Where are you going? Is there any thing I can do for you?" I asked.
"Nothing," she answered. "I left my husband at Mr. Baddeley's. He is as rich as Croesus, and could write him a check that would float him."
"He's too rich to be generous, I'm afraid," I said.
"What do you mean by that?" she asked.
"If he be so generous, how does it come that he is so rich?"
"Why, his father made the money."
"Then he most likely takes after his father. Percivale says he does not believe a huge fortune was ever made of nothing, without such pinching of one's self and such scraping of others, or else such speculation, as is essentially dishonorable."
"He stands high," murmured Judy hopelessly.
"Whether what is dishonorable be also disreputable depends on how many there are of his own sort in the society in which he moves."
"Now, coz, you know nothing to his discredit, and he's our last hope."