"That was the most graceful thing he could
do. So far as my knowledge of the world is concerned, men of his class do
NOT die. They live, and they never rise above their degradation. They had
not brains or courage enough to keep them out of gaol, and they have not
pluck or brains enough to succeed--afterwards. Your friend Anson was
quite gentlemanly in his action at the last. He had some sense of the
fitness of things. He could not find a place in the world without making
other people uncomfortable, and causing trouble. If he had lived, he
would always have added to the blight on his wife's career, and have been
an arrow--not a thorn--in her side. Very likely he would have created a
scandal for the good young girl who nursed him. He made the false step,
and compelled society to reject him. It did not want to do so; it never
does. It is long-suffering; it tries not to see and acknowledge things
until the culprit himself forces it to take action. Then it says: 'Now
you have openly and inconsiderately broken our bond of mutual
forbearance. You make me send you away. Go, then, behind stone walls, and
please do not come to me again.
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