For I had none—or as good as none. But I'd a brother who had. An all-seeing Providence and an indiscriminating parent, had caused him to be amply dowered with worldly goods. I made several efforts with my own hands and brains to supply myself with money. Sometimes they'd succeed; oftener they would fail. When they failed, in the most natural possible manner, I looked to my brother—my only brother—to make good the deficiency. To do this he now and then objected; which was odd. Until, one day, I came upon a man named Bernstein."
The Jew, who had been listening with parted lips and watchful, troubled eyes, to what the other had been saying, now went forward to him, cringingly.
"Lawrence, good old friend, remember all I've done for you, and—and be careful what you say."
"I'll remember, and so shall you; you never will be able to accuse me of forgetting. This man, Bernstein, was a Jew—an usurer."
"I lend money to gentlemen who are in need of it, that's all; there's no harm in it. If I didn't some one else would."
"He negotiated loans on terms which varied—as I quickly learned. I had had some experience of usurers; but this was a new type."
"How new? Circumstances compel one to alter one's terms—it's only business."
