s inseparable from force of character, and to the other this was
far from disagreeable; Julian liked the novel sensation of having a
strong nature to rely upon. Already he was being led by his natural
tendency to hero-worship into a fervid admiration for his friend.
"What have you' been doing with yourself this fine day?" Waymark asked,
as they sat down to table.
"I always spend Sunday afternoon with a cousin of mine," replied
Julian, with the unhesitating frankness which was natural to him.
"Male or female?"
"Female." There was a touch of colour on his face as he met the other's
eye, and he continued rather quickly. "We lived together always as
children, and were only separated at my uncle's death, three years ago.
She is engaged at a stationer's shop."
"What is a fellow to do to get money?" Waymark exclaimed, when his pipe
was well alight. "I'm growing sick of this hand-to-mouth existence. Now
if one had a bare competency, what glorious possibilities would open
out. The vulgar saying has it that 'time is money;' like most vulgar
sayings putting the thing just the wrong way about. 'Money is time,' I
prefer to say; it means leisure, and all that follows. Why don't you
write a poem on Money, Casti? I almost feel capable of it myself. What
can claim precedence, in all this world, over hard cash? It is the
fruitful soil wherein is nourished the root of the tree of life; it is
the vivifying principle of human activity. Upon it luxuriate art,
letters, science; rob them of its sustenance, and they droop like
withering leaves. Money means virtue; the lack of it is vice. The devil
loves no lurking-place like an empty purse. Give me a thousand pounds
to-morrow, and I become the most virtuous man in England. I satisfy all
my instincts freely, openly, with no petty makeshifts and vile
hypocrisies. To scorn and revile wealth is the mere resource of
splenetic poverty. What cannot be purchased with coin of the realm?
First and foremost, freedom. The moneyed man is the sole king; the
herds of the penniless are but as slaves before his footstool. He
breathes with a sense of proprietorship in the whole globe-enveloping
atmosphere; for is it not in his power to inhale it wheresoever he
pleases? He puts his hand in his pocket, and bids with security for
every joy of body and mind; even death he faces with the comforting
consciousness that his defeat will only coincide with that of human
science. He buys culture, he buys peace of
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