United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"It may seem foolish to you, but I am unable to put my ventures out of
my mind. The consequences of loss would be so serious to me that I
suppose my imagination becomes unduly active and apprehensive. Also, I
find myself eager to secure large gains. I must renounce Aladdin's lamp
from this day forth, my dear, and trust to my legitimate business for my
income."
Selma folded her hands and looked grave. "It's disappointing that you
feel so just when we are beginning to get on, Wilbur."
"I have realized, Selma, that you have enjoyed and--er--been made
happier by the freedom to spend which this extra money has afforded you.
But I know, when you reflect, you will understand that I am right, and
that it would be disastrous to both of us if I were to continue to do
what I believe demoralizing. It is a mortification to me to ask you to
retrench, but I said to myself that Selma would be the first to insist
on our doing so if she knew my feelings, and it makes me happy to be
sure of your approval."
Littleton spoke with a tender plaintiveness which betrayed that in his
secret soul he was less confident on this score than his words declared,
or than he himself supposed. "Of course," he added, earnestly, "I shall
hope that it will not make much difference. My business is slowly, but
steadily, improving, and I am doing more this year than last. I am
bending all my energies on my plans for Wetmore College. If I win in
that competition, I shall make a reputation and a respectable
commission."
"You have been on those plans three months."
"Yes, and shall not finish them for another two. I wish to do my best
work, and I shall be glad not to hear quotations of the ticker in my
brain. You desire me to be thorough, surely, Selma _mia_?"
"Oh, yes. Only, you know people very often spoil things by pottering
over them."
"I never potter. I reject because I am dissatisfied rather than offer a
design which does not please me, but I do not waste my time."
"Call it over-conscientiousness then. I wish you to do your best work,
of course, but one can't expect to do best work invariably. Everything
was going so nicely that you must perceive it will be inconvenient to
have to economize as we did before."
Littleton looked at his wife with a glance of loving distress. "You
wouldn't really care a button. I know you wouldn't, Selma," he said,
stoutly.
"Of course not, if it were necessary," she answered. "Only I don't wish
to do so unless it is necessary. I am not controverting your decision
about the stocks, though I think your imagination, as you say, is to
blame. I would rather cut my right hand off than persuade you to act
contrary to your conscience. But it _is_ inconvenient, Wilbur, you must
admit, to give up the things we have become accustomed to."
"We shall be able to keep the horse. I am certain of that."
"I wish you to see my side of it. Say that you do," she said, with
shrill intensity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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