Thus!"
The canvas ripped as Torpenhow"s booted foot shot through it, and the terrier
jumped down, thinking rats were about.
"If you have any bad language to use, use it. You have not. I continue. You are
an idiot, because no man born of woman is strong enough to take liberties with
his public, even though they be--which they ain't--all you say they are."
"But they don't know any better. What can you expect from creatures born and
bred in this light?" Dick pointed to the yellow fog. "If they want furniture-
polish, let them have furniture-polish, so long as they pay for it. They are
only men and women. You talk as if they were gods."
"That sounds very fine, but it has nothing to do with the case. They are they
people you have to do work for, whether you like it or not. They are your
masters. Don'tbe deceived, Dickie, you aren't strong enough to trifle with
them,--or with yourself, which is more important.
Moreover,--Come back, Binkie: that red daub isn't going anywhere,--unless you
take precious good care, you will fall under the damnation of the check-book,
and that's worse than death. You will get drunk--you're half drunk already--on
easily acquired money. For that money and you own infernal vanity you are
willing to deliberately turn out bad work.
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