Love stories; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Speculation -- Fiction; Wall Street (New York, N.Y.) -- Fiction
“Wilder and Marcy,” said he. “They're fairly satisfactory, if you tell
'em exactly what you want and watch 'em all the time. They're perfectly
conventional and so can't distinguish between originality that's artistic
and originality that's only bizarre. They're like most people--they keep to
the beaten track and fight tooth and nail against being drawn out of it and
against those who do go out of it.”
“I'll have a talk with Marcy this very day,” said I.
“Oh, you're in a hurry!” He laughed. “And you haven't asked her. You remind
me of that Greek philosopher who was in love with Lais. They asked him:
'But does she love you?' And he said: 'One does not inquire of the fish one
likes whether it likes one.'”
I flushed. “You'll pardon me, Langdon,” said I, “but I don't like that. It
isn't my attitude at all toward--the right sort of women.”
He looked half-quizzical, half-apologetic. “Ah, to be sure,” said he. “I
forgot you weren't a married man.”
“I don't think I'll ever lose the belief that there's a quality in a good
woman for a man to--to respect and look up to.”
“I envy you,” said he, but his eyes were mocking still. I saw he was a
little disdainful of my rebuking _him_--and angry at me, too.
“Woman's a subject of conversation that men ought to avoid,” said I
easily--for, having set myself right, I felt I could afford to smooth him
down.
“Well, good-by--good luck--or, if I may be permitted to say it to one so
touchy, the kind of luck you're bent on having, whether it's good or bad.”
“If my luck ain't good, I'll make it good,” said I with a laugh.
And so I left him, with a look in his eyes that came back to me long
afterward when I realized the full meaning of that apparently almost
commonplace interview.
That same day I began to plunge on Textile, watching the market closely,
that I might go more slowly should there be signs of a dangerous break--for
no more than Langdon did I want a sudden panicky slump. The price held
steady, however; but I, fool that I was, certain the fall must come,
plunged on, digging the pit for my own destruction deeper and deeper.
X. TWO “PILLARS OF SOCIETY”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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