'
She dismissed the idea of Smithson lightly, with this conclusion, which
she believed very virtuous; and then as she resumed her walk her
thoughts reverted to the Park Lane Palace.
'I hardly know whether I like it,' she mused languidly; 'beautiful as it
is, it is only a reproduction of bygone splendour, and it is painfully
excruciating now. For my own part I would much rather have the shabbiest
old house which had belonged to one's ancestors, which had come to one
as a heritage, by divine right as it were, instead of being bought with
newly made money. To my mind it would rank higher. Yet I doubt if
anybody nowadays sets a pin's value upon ancestors. People ask, Who is
he? but they only mean, How much has he? And provided a person is not
absolutely in trade, not actually engaged in selling soap, or matches,
or mustard, society doesn't care a straw how his money has been made.
The only secondary question is, How long will it last? And that is of
course important.'
Musing thus, wordly wisdom personified, the maiden looked up and saw her
lover entering at the light little iron gate which gave entrance to this
feminine Eden.
Pages:
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673