inst his lips, placed them
graciously and playfully, and in expectancy of the kiss that of old had
always been a consequence. But there was no caressing answer of Martin's
lips. He waited until the fingers were removed and then went on.

"I am not changed. I haven't got a job. I'm not looking for a job.
Furthermore, I am not going to look for a job. And I still believe that
Herbert Spencer is a great and noble man and that Judge Blount is an
unmitigated ass. I had dinner with him the other night, so I ought to
know."

"But you didn't accept father's invitation," she chided.

"So you know about that? Who sent him? Your mother?"

She remained silent.

"Then she did send him. I thought so. And now I suppose she has sent
you."

"No one knows that I am here," she protested. "Do you think my mother
would permit this?"

"She'd permit you to marry me, that's certain."

She gave a sharp cry. "Oh, Martin, don't be cruel. You have not kissed
me once. You are as unresponsive as a stone. And think what I have
dared to do." She looked about her with a shiver, though half the look
was curiosity. "Just think of where I am."

"_I could die for you! I could die for you_!"--Lizzie's words were
ringing in his ears.

"Why didn't you dare it before?" he asked harshly. "When I hadn't a job?
When I was starving? When I was just as I am now, as a man, as an
artist, the same Martin Eden? That's the question I've been propounding
to myself for many a day--not concerning you merely, but concerning
everybody. You see I have not changed, though my sudden apparent
appreciation in value compels me constantly to reassure myself on that
point. I've got the same flesh on my bones, the same ten fingers and
toes. I am the same. I have not developed any new strength nor virtue.
My brain is the same old brain. I haven't made even one new
generalization on literature or philosophy. I am personally of the same
value that I was when nobody wanted me. And what is puzzling me is why
they want me now. Surely they don't want me for myself, for myself is
the same old self they did not want. Then they must want me for
something else, for something that is outside of me, for something that
is not I! Shall I tell you what that something is? It is for the
recognition I have received. That recognition is not I. It resides in
the minds of others. Then again for the money I have earned and am
earning. But that money is not I