United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Her head may have been turned by her success. She has a kind heart, but
a giddy brain in spite of its cleverness."
"Flossy has been getting on, of course. But so are we getting on. Why
should they be recognized, as you call it, any more than we? In time, I
mean. Not in the same way, perhaps, since you don't approve of the sort
of things--"
"Since I don't approve? Why, Selma, surely--"
"Since _we_ don't approve, then. I only mean that Gregory Williams has
shown initiative, has pushed ahead, and is--er--the talk of the town. I
expect you to be successful, too. Is there any reason on earth why the
door of the Morton Prices should open wide to her and not to me?"
"I suppose not, if--if you wish it."
She made a gesture of impatience and gazed at him a moment with an
imperious frown, then suddenly, with the litheness of a cat, she slipped
from her chair to the floor at his feet, and leaning against his knee,
looked up into his face.
"You dear boy, I am going to tell you something. You said to me once
that if ever the time came when I thought you visionary, I was to let
you know. Of course I understand you are worth a thousand _Gregorys_;
but don't you think you would get on faster if you were a little more
aggressive in your work?--if you weren't so afraid of being superficial
or sensational? You were intimating a few minutes ago," she added,
speaking rapidly under the stress of the message she burned to deliver,
"that I seemed changed. I don't believe I am changed. But, if I seem
different, it is because I feel so strongly that those who wish to
succeed must assert themselves and seize opportunities. There is where
it seems to me that Mr. Williams has the advantage over you, Wilbur. One
of the finest and most significant qualities of our people, you know, is
their enterprise and aggressiveness. Architecture isn't like the stock
business, but the same theory of progress must be applicable to both.
Don't you think I may be right, Wilbur? Don't you see what I mean?"
He stroked her hair and answered gently, "What is it that I am not doing
which you think I might do?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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