So there, in a word, was the reason why Joseph had, and others had not, been admitted to her presence.
As obviously to the apothecary's eyes as anything intangible could be, a load of suffering was lifted from the quadroon's mind, as this explanation was concluded.

Yet he only sat in meditation before his tenant, who regarded him long and sadly.

Then, seized with one of his energetic impulses, he suddenly said: "Mr.Grandissime, you are a man of intelligence, accomplishments, leisure and wealth; why" (clenchings his fists and frowning), "why do you not give yourself--your time--wealth--attainments--energies--everything--to the cause of the downtrodden race with which this community's scorn unjustly compels you to rank yourself ?" The quadroon did not meet Frowenfeld's kindled eyes for a moment, and when he did, it was slowly and dejectedly.
"He canno' be," he said, and then, seeing his words were not understood, he added: "He 'ave no Cause.

Dad peop' 'ave no Cause." He went on from this with many pauses and gropings after words and idiom, to tell, with a plaintiveness that seemed to Frowenfeld almost unmanly, the reasons why the people, a little of whose blood had been enough to blast his life, would never be free by the force of their own arm.

Reduced to the meanings which he vainly tried to convey in words, his statement was this: that that people was not a people.