in luxury for
the rest of their days they were moving East, occupying these expensive
apartments, crowding the great hotels, patronizing the sumptuous
restaurants, giving the city its air of spendthrift luxury. All the
things which catered to showy material living were beginning to flourish
tremendously, art and curio shops, rug shops, decorative companies
dealing with the old and the new in hangings, furniture, objects of art;
dealers in paintings, jewelry stores, china and glassware
houses--anything and everything which goes to make life comfortable and
brilliant. Eugene, as he strolled about the city, saw this, felt the
change, realized that the drift was toward greater population, greater
luxury, greater beauty. His mind was full of the necessity of living
_now_. He was young _now_; he was vigorous _now_; he was keen _now_; in
a few years he might not be--seventy years was the allotted span and
twenty-five of his had already gone. How would it be if he never came
into this luxury, was never allowed to enter society, was never
permitted to live as wealth was now living! The thought hurt him. He
felt an eager desire to tear wealth and fame from the bosom of the
world. Life must give him his share. If it did not he would curse it to
his dying day. So he felt when he was approaching twenty-six.

The effect of Christina Channing's friendship for him was particularly
to emphasize this. She was not so much older than he, was possessed of
very much the same temperament, the same hopes and aspirations, and she
discerned almost as clearly as he did the current of events. New York
was to witness a golden age of luxury. It was already passing into it.
Those who rose to distinction in any field, particularly music or the
stage, were likely to share in a most notable spectacle of luxury.
Christina hoped to. She was sure she would. After a few conversations
with Eugene she was inclined to feel that he would. He was so brilliant,
so incisive.

"You have such a way with you," she said the second time he came. "You
are so commanding. You make me think you can do almost anything you want
to."

"Oh, no," he deprecated. "Not as bad as that. I have just as much
trouble as anyone getting what I want."

"Oh, but you will though. You have ideas."

It did not take these two long to reach an understanding. They confided
to each other their individual histories, with reservations, of course,
at first. Christina told him of her musical hi