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Wharton, Edith, 1862-1937

"The Custom of the Country"

I'm stone-broke, if you want
to know. And wanted for an Investigation too. That's why I'm over here
improving my mind."
"Why, I thought you were going home next week?"
He grinned. "I am, because I've found out there's a party wants me to
stay away worse than the courts want me back. Making the trip just for
my private satisfaction--there won't be any money in it, I'm afraid."
Leaden disappointment descended on Undine. She had felt almost sure
of Moffatt's helping her, and for an instant she wondered if some
long-smouldering jealousy had flamed up under its cold cinders. But
another look at his face denied her this solace; and his evident
indifference was the last blow to her pride. The twinge it gave her
prompted her to ask: "Don't you ever mean to get married?"
Moffatt gave her a quick look. "Why, I shouldn't wonder--one of these
days. Millionaires always collect something; but I've got to collect my
millions first."
He spoke coolly and half-humorously, and before he had ended she had
lost all interest in his reply. He seemed aware of the fact, for he
stood up and held out his hand. "Well, so long, Mrs. Marvell. It's been
uncommonly pleasant to see you; and you'd better think over what I've
said."
She laid her hand sadly in his. "You've never had a child," she replied.

XXXI
Nearly two years had passed since Ralph Marvell, waking from his long
sleep in the hot summer light of Washington Square, had found that the
face of life was changed for him.


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