“I’ll take the little girl,” she said to the police officer. “But the mother, can you save her? Is she too far gone?”
“I’ve sent for a doctor,” replied the other.
Just before the ladies left the table, young Lambert raised his glass of Madeira. Turning towards the wife of the Railroad King, he said:
“My best compliments for a delightful dinner.”
The doctor, who had been bending over Mrs. Hooven, rose.
“It’s no use,” he said; “she has been dead some time—exhaustion from starvation.”
By Anatole France
The law in its majestic equality forbids the rich as well as the poor to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets and to steal bread.