"He needn't have claimed all his pound of flesh," she went on. "Law isn't everything. Nobody would have expected that all three 'lives' would have died in a dozen years."
"I believe the law of average works out to about forty-seven years," he said.
"In which case your father ought to have his farm another thirty-five years."
"He ought. In fact, no lease ought to be less than ninety-nine years. However, the chances of life have gone against father, and so we must submit."
"I don't understand any man exacting all his rights in such a case," she said sympathetically. "If only people would do to others as they would be done unto, how much happier the world would be!"
"Ah, if that were the case," he said, with a smile, "soldiers and policemen and lawyers would find all their occupations gone."
"But, all the same, what's religion worth if we don't try to put it into practice? The lord of the manor has, no doubt, the law on his side. He can legally claim his pound of flesh, but there's no justice in it."
"It seems to me the strong do not often know what justice means," he said, with an icy tone in his voice.
"No; don't say that," she replied, looking at him reproachfully. "I think most people are really kind and good, and would like to help people if they only knew how."
"I'm afraid most people think only of themselves," he answered.