“I believe you could,” she said, and smiled suddenly. “Do you know what I covet,” she asked abruptly, “more than anything in the world? Money.” She emitted a bitter little laugh. “Now, confess, you don’t think that altogether nice of me.”
“Well, I don’t know,” he replied. “Life without money would be fairly dull. I had rather you had owned to a more feminine desire; it would seem more natural.”
“Not really,” she contradicted. “Where will you find a woman who will marry a poor man if a richer offers? Every one wants wealth. It is the only thing which gives one power, and is never disappointing. If one is wealthy one can snap one’s fingers at the world.”
“By Jove!” he muttered.
He looked at her oddly, removing the cigar from his mouth and waving aside the smoke rings for his better observation of the intent, inscrutable face, which in its earnest concentration appeared wholly unaware of his scrutiny and the criticism in his eyes. He was busy taking stock of her, summing up from this unexpected admission to the secrecy of her innermost thoughts, the nature of this surprisingly new feminine type who imagined herself symbolic of all womanhood. Like himself, she was thorough egoist, hugging to her embittered, discontented soul the sense of her own importance and the world’s callous neglect. All the submissiveness, the gentle deferential manner which had won for her Mrs Carruthers’ patronage, and the confidence of Pamela, fell from her like a soft garment which has concealed effectively the deformities it cloaked. The passionate, hungry, dissatisfied soul of the girl was bared to the man’s gaze. He recognised her true self for the first time, and smiled to himself at the revelation. He took pleasure in the knowledge that he was a wealthy man.
“If a rich man offered, I suppose you would marry him?” he said, brutally outspoken.
She did not resent the grossness of the question, neither did she give him a direct answer. She plucked the head from a wild flower growing in the grass, and pulled it to pieces abstractedly while she talked.
“Wealth, when it is a personal possession, brings one absolute power,” she said slowly. “When one benefits through another’s wealth one can only enjoy what it gives. If I had money of my own, I should be glad; but I shall never have it. If I were a man I would get it—somehow.”
He laughed.
“That kind of reckless ambition leads men occasionally into awkward scrapes,” he said. “Finance with a disregard for the methods of acquirement is folly. Your feminine logic disqualifies you for the profession.”