Richmond leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his big head, stared out of the window.
“What are you going to do about it?” repeated his wife.
Still no reply.
“Are you going to sacrifice all that I’ve spent so many years in building up?”
“You?” snapped Richmond, with contemptuous sarcasm. “What have you done?”
“I’ve made our social position—that’s what I’ve done.”
“You mean I’ve built it—my money and my power. People recognize us because they don’t dare anger me.” This in the voice of axiomatic truth.
But Mrs. Richmond was too angry—too alarmed. Panic has its courage more dangerous than valor’s. “Look at the Galloways,” cried she. “They’ve got more money than we have. Look at the Roebucks—more money than we have—and Roebuck a man you’re afraid of.”
“I’m afraid of nobody!” blustered he.
She answered this with a maddening, little, sneering laugh, and went on: “Look at the Fosdicks—and the Bellinghams—and the Ashforths. More money than we have.”