"You
seem to have forgotten."
"It's you who have forgotten," replied she.
"Yes--yes--I know," he hastened to say. "I wasn't accusing
you of breaking your agreement. You've lived up to it--and
more. But, Susan, the people you care about don't especially
interest me. Brent--yes. He's a man of the world as well as
one of the artistic chaps. But the others--they're beyond me.
I admit it's all fine, and I'm glad you go in for it. But the
only crowd that's congenial to me is the crowd that we've got
to be married to get in with."
She saw his point--saw it more clearly than did he. To him
the world of fashion and luxurious amusement seemed the only
world worth while. He accepted the scheme of things as he
found it, had the conventional ambitions--to make in
succession the familiar goals of the conventional human
success--power, wealth, social position. It was impossible
for him to get any other idea of a successful life, of
ambitions worthy a man's labor. It was evidence of the
excellence of his mind that he was able to tolerate the idea
of the possibility of there being another mode of success
worth while.
"I'm helping you in your ambitions--in doing what you think is
worth while," said he. "Don't you think you owe it to me to
help me in mine?"
He saw the slight change of expression that told him how
deeply he had touched her.
"If I don't go in for the high society game," he went on,
"I'll have nothing to do.
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