"I cannot judge your
father. I am simply trying to protect myself. I'm afraid of the grip
of this world upon me. I have followed the careers of so many men,
one after another. They come into it, and it lays hold of them, and
before they know it, they become corrupt. What I have seen here in
the Metropolis has filled me with dismay, almost with terror. Every
fibre of me cries out against it; and I mean to fight it--to fight
it all my life. And so I do not care to make terms with it socially.
When I have seen a man doing what I believe to be a dreadful wrong,
I cannot go to his home, and shake his hand, and smile, and exchange
the commonplaces of life with him."
It was a long time before Miss Hegan replied. Her voice was
trembling.
"Mr. Montague," she said, "you must not think that I have not been
troubled by these things. But what can one do? What is the remedy?"
"I do not know," he answered. "I wish that I did know. I can only
tell you this, that I do not intend to rest until I have found out."
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
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