Grace was thoughtful a moment, and then she replied:
"Money is not everything—mere money is vulgar. One gets horribly tired of it." Pensively she went on: "You think I am cold and devoid of sentiment. You are wrong. I yearn for life in the sun-lit countries of the old world, in historic lands of intrigue, love, and passion, with brilliant state functions amid scenes of regal splendor, where class and birth count for more than mere wealth. In America we have only the money standard. The wife of any little grocer who gets rich overnight may be a social leader to-morrow. It's disgusting!"
Mrs. Stuart was about to say something when a sudden commotion on the dock attracted everybody's attention, and there was a general rush to the rail. A large crowd had gathered near the entrance of the gangway, surrounding a man who lay struggling on the ground. Policemen and ship's officers were stooping over him trying to quiet him.
"What's the matter?" cried Grace anxiously. "I hope no one's hurt!"
"It looks as if some one had fallen in a fit," said Mrs. Stuart, looking through her lorgnon.
Mr. Harmon, who had been conversing with an acquaintance, came up hurriedly. Having noticed the excitement, he feared that some harm threatened his daughter.
"It's an accident of some kind," he said.
"Oh, I knew something would happen!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, getting out her smelling-salts.
"Do you know what the matter is?" inquired Grace of a sailor.
The man grinned and touched his cap.