‘On the contrary, I think it rather hard, after the money I spent on her.’
‘That won’t do, Sir Watkin! You, and such as you, are a disgrace to your class; cruel as wild beasts you spend your lives in pursuit of victims whom you ruin with fair words and foul lies and for foul ends. A time must come when England will no longer tolerate such men in her midst. English women will come to the rescue of their tempted sisters. Society will demand that wealth should not thus be iniquitously squandered in pursuit of vice and selfish gratifications. There is no greater crime a rich man can commit, and yet there is no punishment can reach him. The rich man can always get off, or take himself off. He leaves the seduced to perish of want and infamy, while he is honoured and admired.’
‘Upon my word, Mr. Wentworth, you are using language which I am quite unaccustomed to.’
‘I dare say you are, Sir Watkin; but it is the language of truth and soberness, nevertheless.’
‘Why, one would fancy you were a parson, and availing yourself of the privileges of the cloth,’ said the Baronet with sneer.
‘I was very near being one,’ said Wentworth; ‘and now I recollect that it was then you and I met for the first time. I remember you nearly ran over a poor old woman who was coming to hear me preach.’
‘Upon my word you have a good memory. I’d forgotten all about it.’
‘So good a memory,’ said Wentworth, ‘that for the future I recommend you to keep out of my way.’
‘By all means,’ replied the Baronet; ‘but you ought to hear what I have to say in my defence. I own my conduct was shabby.’
‘It was infamous.’