"Oh, Lord, he says he's had many wives! How many?"
Lala Roy read the receipt, and put it in his pocket. Then he rose and remarked, with a smile of supreme superiority:
"It is a pleasure to give money to you, and to such as you, Mr. Chalker."
"Is it?" he replied with a grin. "Give me some more, then."
"You are one of those who, the richer they become, the less harm they do. Many Englishmen are of this disposition. When they are poor they are jackals, hyenas, wolves, and man-eating tigers; when they are rich they are benevolent and charitable, and show mercy unto the wretched and the poor. So that, in their case, the words of the Wise Man are naught, when he says that the earth is barren of good things where she hoardeth treasure; and that where gold is in her bowels no herb groweth. Pray, Mr. Chalker, pray earnestly for gold in order that you may become virtuous."
Mr. Chalker grinned, but looked uncomfortable.
"I will, mister," he said, "I will pray with all my might."
Nevertheless, he remained for the space of the whole morning in uneasiness. The words of the Philosopher troubled him. I do not go so far as to say that his mind went back to the days when he was young and innocent, because he was still young, and he never had been innocent; nor do I say that a tear rose to his eyes and trickled down his cheek, because nothing brought tears into his eyes except a speck of dust; or that he resolved to confine himself for the future to legitimate lawyer's work, because he would then have starved. I only say that he felt uncomfortable and humiliated, and chiefly so because an old man with white hair and a brown skin—hang it! a common nigger—had been able to bring discord into the sweet harmony of his thoughts.
Lala Roy then betook himself to Joe's former lodgings, and asked for that gentleman's present address.