_You_ are a capitalist and a
millionaire. In _your_ large way you prey upon society. YOU deal in
Corners, Options, Concessions, Syndicates. You drain the world
dry of its blood and its money. You possess, like the mosquito, a
beautiful instrument of suction--Founders' Shares--with which you
absorb the surplus wealth of the community. In _my_ smaller way,
again, _I_ relieve you in turn of a portion of the plunder. I am a
Robin Hood of my age; and, looking upon _you_ as an exceptionally bad
form of millionaire--as well as an exceptionally easy form of pigeon
for a man of my type and talents to pluck--I have, so to speak,
taken up my abode upon you."
Charles looked at him and groaned.
The young man continued, in a tone of gentle badinage. "I love the
plot-interest of the game," he said, "and so does dear Jessie here.
We both of us adore it. As long as I find such good pickings upon
you, I certainly am not going to turn away from so valuable a
carcass, in order to batten myself, at considerable trouble, upon
minor capitalists, out of whom it is difficult to extract a few
hundreds. It may have puzzled you to guess why I fix upon you so
persistently. Now you know, and understand. When a fluke finds a
sheep that suits him, that fluke lives upon him. You are my host: I
am your parasite.
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