Bishop Penhurst was talking, in Boston, about charity.
Some charities, he said, "remind me of the cold, proud, beautiful lady who, glittering with diamonds, swept forth from a charity ball at dawn, crossed the frosty sidewalk, and entered her huge limousine.
A beggar woman whined at the window:
'Could ye give me a trifle for a cup of coffee, lady?'
The lady looked at the beggar reproachfully.
'Good gracious!' she said. 'Here you have the nerve to ask me for money when I've been tangoing for you the whole night through! Home, James.'
And she snapped the window shut in the beggar's face indignantly.