Lindsay's face wore an unusually sleepless, anxious
look. The man of routine was but a man, after all, and, in his distress,
he longed for some intelligent, friendly sympathy. Monroe recognized the
mute appeal, but, from long habits of reticence, he was at a loss how
to approach his stately chief. Determined, however, to give him an
opportunity to speak, if he chose, Monroe asked after the news, the
day's failures, and the prospects of business. The merchant needed only
a word, and broke out at once,--
"Prospect? there is no prospect but ruin. If a whirlwind would bury the
city, or a conflagration leave it a heap of ashes, it would be better
for all of us."
"But don't you think the darkest time has past?"
"Not at all; the pressure will continue until scores more are brought
down. Better fail at once than live in dread of it."
"You surprise me! Why, you are not in danger?"
"Did you ever consider? Look at the bales of goods in our lofts,--goods
which nobody will buy and nobody can pay for. And our acceptances have
been given to the manufacturers for them,--acceptances that are maturing
daily.
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