"But you are of the working people," Saxon charged.
The old woman drew herself up, and almost was angry.
"I? Of the working people? My dear, because I had misfortune with
moneys invested, because I am old and can no longer win the brave
young men, because I have outlived the men of my youth and there
is no one to go to, because I live here in the ghetto with Barry
Higgins and prepare to die--why, my dear, I was born with the
masters, and have trod all my days on the necks of the stupid. I
have drunk rare wines and sat at feasts that would have supported
this neighborhood for a lifetime. Dick Golden and I--it was
Dickie's money, but I could have had it Dick Golden and I dropped
four hundred thousand francs in a week's play at Monte Carlo. He
was a Jew, but he was a spender. In India I have worn jewels that
could have saved the lives of ten thousand families dying before
my eyes."
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