The chapter opens with three descriptions in one line: the way is the storeroom of the ten thousand things, the treasure of the good, and what protects the not good.
The first image is domestic and slightly odd. A storeroom is where a household keeps what it will need, and calling the way a storeroom makes it a place things are held rather than a source they come from, which is a different relation from the mother of chapter fifty-two or the birth sequence of chapter forty-two.
The second and third are the point. The good have it as a treasure, which is what one would expect. The not good are protected by it, which is not, and the chapter presses the consequence immediately: so how could the not good be abandoned?
That question is the same one chapter twenty-seven answers when it says the sage abandons nobody, and chapter forty-nine answers when it says the not good are treated as good. Three chapters make the same argument in three registers, and the consistency suggests it is a settled position rather than an aside.
The chapter also concedes something the book rarely does. Fine words can be traded and honoured conduct can be added to a person, which is to say that eloquence and reputation have real market value. Elsewhere the text is dismissive of both. Here their value is granted, and used as the premise for an argument from generosity: if even the counterfeit versions are worth something, the genuine thing cannot be reserved for the deserving.