It made a mockery of all his arrogant, noisy
protestations of equality and democracy.
"The fault is not in my ideas," thought he; "THEY'RE all right.
The fault's in me--damned snob that I am!"
Clearly, if he was to be what he wished, if he was to become what
he had thought he was, he must get away from this sinister
influence, from this temptation that had made him, at first onset,
not merely stumble, but fall flat and begin to grovel. "She is a
superior woman--that is no snob notion of mine," reflected he.
"But from the way I falter and get weak in the knees, she ought to
be superhuman--which she isn't, by any means. No, there's only one
thing to do--keep away from her. Besides, I'd feel miserable with
her about as my wife." My wife! The very words threw him into a
cold sweat.
So the note was written, was feverishly dispatched.
No sooner was it sent than it was repented. "What's the matter
with me?" demanded he of himself, as his courage came swaggering
back, once the danger had been banished. "Why, the best is not too
good for me. She is the best, and mighty proud she ought to be of
a man who, by sheer force of character, has lifted himself to
where I am and who, is going to be what I shall be.
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