They're so beastly
worldly. That's what I hate most--oh, I've _seen_ it! All they care
about is to make an appearance and to pass for something or other. What
the dickens do they want to pass for? What _do_ they, Mr. Pemberton?"
"You pause for a reply," said Pemberton, treating the question as a joke,
yet wondering too and greatly struck with his mate's intense if imperfect
vision. "I haven't the least idea."
"And what good does it do? Haven't I seen the way people treat them--the
'nice' people, the ones they want to know? They'll take anything from
them--they'll lie down and be trampled on. The nice ones hate that--they
just sicken them. You're the only really nice person we know."
"Are you sure? They don't lie down for me!"
"Well, you shan't lie down for them. You've got to go--that's what
you've got to do," said Morgan.
"And what will become of you?"
"Oh I'm growing up. I shall get off before long. I'll see you later."
"You had better let me finish you," Pemberton urged, lending himself to
the child's strange superiority.
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