"I've come to the conclusion that as practical philanthropists we are failures," I said coldly.
"Failures!" cried Chelubai. "Why even looking at it from the business point of view the company has already paid over six thousand per cent. in dividends!"
"That is adopting a very base commercial standard of success, and I will not admit any such standard," I said severely. "We set out, as practical philanthropists, to further human progress by ridding the world of the less advertised objectionable people. Have we succeeded? No. Pudleigh still ravens through the world promoting companies. Sir Reginald Blackthwaite is brutalizing Karlsbadt with his anecdotes. Mrs. Jubb still moves about her restricted world in purple majesty. In the matter of Gutermann, we were hoodwinked, and he robbed the British public unscathed; instead of being firm and drowning him, we have let him go free to plunder it the next chance he gets. As philanthropists, practical philanthropists, we are failures. Let us face the fact frankly—like men."
On Chelubai's face rested an expression of mingled sadness and perplexity, and he said, "How with dividends like that, you can say"
"I will not hear a word about dividends! Our work shall not be judged by a commercial standard!" I cried, in a terrible voice.
