Well--was he not right? Love might fail; passion might wane;
conscience, aiding self-interest with its usual servility,
might overcome the instincts of gratitude. But what power
could overcome the loyalty resting upon money interest? No
power but that of a longer purse than his. As she was not in
the mood to make pretenses about herself to herself, she
smiled at this cynical self-measuring. "But I shan't despise
myself for being so material," said she to herself, "until I
find a _genuine_ case of a woman, respectable or otherwise, who
has known poverty and escaped from it, and has then
voluntarily given up wealth to go back to it. I should not
stay on with him if he were distasteful to me. And that's
more than most women can honestly say. Perhaps even I should
not stay on if it were not for a silly, weak feeling of
obligation--but I can't be sure of that." She had seen too
much of men and women preening upon noble disinterested
motives when in fact their real motives were the most
calculatingly selfish; she preferred doing herself less than
justice rather than more.
She had fifty-five thousand francs on deposit at Munroe's--all
her very own. She had almost two hundred thousand francs'
worth of jewels, which she would be justified in keeping--at
least, she hoped she would think so--should there come a break
with Freddie. Yet in spite of this substantial prosperity--or
was it because of this prosperity?--she abruptly began again
to be haunted by the old visions, by warnings of the dangers
that beset any human being who has not that paying trade or
profession which makes him or her independent--gives him or
her the only unassailable independence.
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