. All the troubles, disorders and imperfections of
existence were here carefully swept aside and one saw only the niceness,
the health and strength of being. He was more and more impressed as he
came farther and farther along in the scale of comfort, with the force
and eagerness with which life seems to minister to the luxury-love of
the human mind. He learned of so many, to him, lovely things, large,
wellkept, magnificent country places, scenes of exquisite beauty where
country clubs, hotels, seaside resorts of all descriptions had been
placed. He found sport, amusement, exercise, to be tremendously well
organized and that there were thousands of people who were practically
devoting their lives to this. Such a state of social ease was not for
him yet, but he could sit at the pleasures, so amply spread, between his
hours of work and dream of the time to come when possibly he might do
nothing at all. Yachting, motoring, golfing, fishing, hunting, riding,
playing tennis and polo, there were experts in all these fields he
found. Card playing, dancing, dining, lounging, these seemed to occupy
many people's days constantly. He could only look in upon it all as upon
a passing show, but that was better than nothing. It was more than he
had ever done before. He was beginning to see clearly how the world was
organized, how far were its reaches of wealth, its depths of poverty.
From the lowest beggar to the topmost scene--what a distance!

Angela scarcely kept pace with him in all these mental peregrinations.
It was true that now she went to the best dressmakers only, bought
charming hats, the most expensive shoes, rode in cabs and her husband's
auto, but she did not feel about it as he did. It seemed very much like
a dream to her--like something that had come so suddenly and so
exuberantly that it could not be permanent. There was running in her
mind all the time that Eugene was neither a publisher, nor an editor,
nor a financier at heart, but an artist and that an artist he would
remain. He might attain great fame and make much money out of his
adopted profession, but some day in all likelihood he would leave it and
return to art. He seemed to be making sound investments--at least, they
seemed sound to her, and their stocks and bank accounts, principally
convertible stocks, seemed a safe enough margin for the future to
guarantee peace of mind, but they were not saving so much, after all. It
was costing them something over eight