She'll worship you as a god, make you comfortable. That's all you need
from the world."
"Marry her yourself; she'll sew and cook for you," said Rantoul, with
perfect good humor.
"I'm in no danger," said Herkimer, curtly; "you are."
"What!"
"You'll see."
"Listen, you old grumbler," said Rantoul, seriously. "If I go into
society, it is to see the hollowness of it all--"
"Yes, yes."
"To know what I rebel against--"
"Of course."
"To appreciate the freedom of the life I have--"
"Faker!"
"To have the benefit of contrasts, light and shade. You think I am not a
rebel. My dear boy, I am ten times as big a rebel as I was. Do you know
what I'd do with society?"
He began a tirade in the famous muscular Rantoul style, overturning
creeds and castes, reorganizing republics and empires, while Herkimer,
grumbling to himself, began to scold the model, who sleepily received
the brunt of his ill humor.
In the second year of his success Rantoul, quite by accident, met a girl
in her teens named Tina Glover, only daughter of Cyrus Glover, a man of
millions, self-made.
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