"Oh, I mustn't fail," he returned with prompt simplicity. "That is, if I do I shall take a room here in the Auditorium for the remainder of my stay. We all make rather a pet of Jack," he explained. "The thought of denying him or contradicting him presents itself somewhat in the light of a catastrophe. What do you think, Mrs. Van Tassel, of the effect on the average character of a habit of success?"
Really, Clover thought this was one of the oddest men she had ever met; but his question was so serious that she felt constrained to express an opinion.
"I am afraid I am no student of character, but I should say it would have a genial, developing effect."
"Yes, one thinks so at the first blush, and that continued failure would dwarf the faculties. One can hardly lay down a rule where exceptions are so numerous; and of course success and failure are never accidents."
"I think they seem to be so very often."
"No," Page shook his head. "Everything is the result of law."
"Then the character that dominates and commands success must grow by what it feeds upon, and expand in its own sunlight. I was right."
"Yes; but the flowers and fruits of a tropical sun are heavy in scent and often coarse of flavor: while the flower that struggles for life and develops in meagre warmth is like the New England arbutus, both strong and delicate."
"People have such varying standards by which they measure success and failure," said Clover. "That sort of scanty, hard-won success which might be typified by the arbutus would scarcely be counted success by many."
"True," said Page, nodding his head at her thoughtfully. "There ought to be some reliable touchstone which we could apply to every case."