s by those who did not know her
peculiarities. No one could have suspected the vision of the
old women of the dive before her eyes, the sound of the
hunchback's piano in her ears, the smell of foul liquors and
foul bodies and foul breaths in her nostrils. Yet she repeated:

"No--I can't sign."

He returned to his chair, seated himself, a slight cloud on his
brow, a wicked smile on his lips. "Now what the devil!" said he
gently, a jeer in his quiet voice. "What's all this about?"

"I can't marry you," said she. "I wish to live on as we are."

"But if we do that we can't get up where we want to go."

"I don't wish to know anyone but interesting men of the sort
that does things--and women of my own sort. Those people have
no interest in conventionalities."

"That's not the crowd we set out to conquer," said he. "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. I'll be adrift--gambling, drinking,
yawning about and going to pieces. A man's got to have
something to work for--and he can't work unless it seems to
him worth doing."