“So, then, if I go to Rose’s dance, she will be sure I have done so for an opportunity to interfere with Harry once more.”
“Then go for that very purpose. I would. I am provoked to death with the young man. He has refused all my invitations—very sorry to do so—but—”
“But he did not want to come. He evidently does not care to meet me again. It is very humiliating.”
“He fears to meet you again. And I think, Yanna, you made him drink a very humble cup. Men do not readily forgive such wounds to their self-esteem.”
“Harry has disappointed me. I hear nothing good of him.”
“I wouldn’t quite believe all Rose said on that subject. It is true that he is running a fast rig with a lot of gilded goslings, whose money came from industrious, economical ancestors. And it is also true that Harry has but a small inherited income, and must depend largely upon the results of his transactions in Wall Street; and that, therefore, he is simply going to poverty in very swagger company. But nothing else will cure him of his folly; not his father’s advice, nor his mother’s tears, nor love, nor honor, nor any good thing. Only poverty cures extravagance. Some day he will doubtless be sorry enough. Harry’s great want in life is a friend who will make him do what he can do.”
“It is a want we all share.”
“Then be a friend, and make me do what I can do.”
“You can do the thing you sketched out for yourself and others to Professor Snowdon. Bring together all the pure Dutch gentlewomen you know. Then begin your benevolent Holland Society. You are a fine 141 organizer, and excel in setting every one around you either to work or play.”
“Now, Yanna, it is my turn. Your duty is to forgive Emma Filmer, and to do good to her just because she did evil to you—which is a nice way of saying, go to the Filmer ball, and be as lovely to Harry as possible.”