These things take me. We spend
hundreds of thousands on the merest wastrels in the slums, and the
finest class that we've got are left neglected. I would rather see every
racecourse loafer from Whitechapel and Southwark blotted out of the
world than I would lose ten men like that fellow Withers."
Marion Dearsley said, "I don't think the neglect is really blameworthy.
For instance, I'm sure that my uncle knows nothing about what we have
seen in the last few days. He is charitable on system, and he weighs and
balances things so much that we tease him. He never gives a sixpence
unless he knows all the facts of the case, and I'm sure when I tell him
he'll be willing to assist Mr. Fullerton. Then I'm as ignorant as my
uncle. I can guess a great deal, of course, but really I've only seen
about half a dozen men, after all. It's terrible to watch the ships in
bad weather, but for our purpose--I mean Mr. Fullerton's purpose--we
might as well have been looking at Stanfield's pictures." "Never mind.
You fahscinate your uncle, Miss Dearsley, and we'll show you what we can
do. What do you think, Miss Ranken?"
Miss Lena Ranken, Mr. Blair's niece, creased her brow in pert little
wrinkles: "I'm not sure that I know anything; Marion there studies
questions of all sorts, but an ordinary girl has to do without
knowledge. I know that when auntie and I were wishing you would drop us
over into the water, I thought of the men who use the same damp bed for
two months instead of having changes and all that.
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