That's true," as if reflecting favorably.
"Yes, I think I'd like New York," continued she, all unsuspicious.
"I don't care much for politics. I hate to think of a man of your
abilities at the mercy of the mob. In New York you could make a
really great career."
"Get rich--be right in the social swim--and you too," suggested
he.
"It certainly is very satisfactory to feel one is of the best
people. And I'm sure you'd not care to have me mix up with all
sorts, as politicians' wives have to do."
He laughed at her--the loud, coarse Josh Craig outburst. "You're
stark mad on the subject of class distinctions, aren't you?" said
he. "You'll learn some day to look on that sort of thing as you
would on an attempt to shovel highways and set up sign-posts in
the open sea. Your kind of people are like the children that build
forts out of sand at the seashore. Along comes a wave and washes
it all away....You'd be willing for me to abandon my career and
become a rich nonentity in New York?"
His tone was distinctly offensive. "I don't look at it in that
way," said she coldly. "Really, I care nothing about it." And she
resumed the reading of her letter.
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