Society possesses a conventional standard whereby it judges all things. - Theodore Dreiser

Chapter I The Philadelphia into which Frank Algernon Cowperwood was born was a city of two hundred and fifty thousand and more. It was set with handsome parks, notable buildings, and crowded with historic memories. Many of the things that we and he knew later were not then in existence — the telegraph, telephone, express company, ocean steamer, city delivery of mails.

"You felt no sorrow? No shame? Then?" "Yes, shame, maybe. Maybe sorrow, too, a little. I knew it was terrible. I felt that it was, of course. But still — you see — " "Yes, I know. That Miss X. You wanted to get away." "Yes — but mostly I was frightened, and I didn't want to help her." "Yes! Yes! Tst! Tst! Tst! If she drowned you could go to that Miss X. You thought of that?" The Reverend McMillan's lips were tightly and sadly compressed. "Yes." "My son! My son! In your heart was murder then."

When waters engulf us we reach for a star.