Truly, _corruptio
optimi pessima!_
One of the things that sadden a man as he grows older and reviews his
life is the reflection that his most devastating deeds were generally
the ones which he did with the best motives. The thought is
disheartening. I can honestly say that, when George Mackintosh came to
me and told me his troubles, my sole desire was to ameliorate his lot.
That I might be starting on the downward path a man whom I liked and
respected never once occurred to me.
One night after dinner when George Mackintosh came in, I could see at
once that there was something on his mind, but what this could be I was
at a loss to imagine, for I had been playing with him myself all the
afternoon, and he had done an eighty-one and a seventy-nine. And, as I
had not left the links till dusk was beginning to fall, it was
practically impossible that he could have gone out again and done
badly. The idea of financial trouble seemed equally out of the
question. George had a good job with the old-established legal firm of
Peabody, Peabody, Peabody, Peabody, Cootes, Toots, and Peabody.
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