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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"A Prince of Sinners"

Mr. Flitch will put me in an omnibus at London Bridge. You must
see those reporters. You've read the evening papers, haven't you?"
Brooks nodded.
"Yes. I knew we should have opposition. This isn't even the beginning
of it. It won't hurt us."
Nevertheless Brooks was anxious to be properly understood, and he talked
for a long time with the reporter, whom he found awaiting him in Jermyn
Street--a pleasant young fellow just back from the war, with the easy
manner and rattling conversation of his order.
"You ought to call in and have a chat with the chief, Mr. Brooks," he
said. "He'd be delighted to hear your views personally, I'm sure, and
I believe you'd convert him. He's a bit old-fashioned, you know, that
is for a sub--believes in the orthodox societies, and makes a great
point of not encouraging idleness."
"I'd be glad to some time," Brooks answered. "But I can tell you this.
If we can get the money, and I haven't asked for a penny yet, nothing in
the shape of popular opinion is going to stop us. Idleness and
drunkenness, deceit and filthy-mindedness, and all those vices which I
admit are like a pestilence amongst these people, are sins which we are
responsible for, not them, and, of course, we must suffer to some
extent from them.


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