"Nothing out of Wall Street. A man must work, of course, to make his pile—if he doesn't inherit one. I was an only child. Lucky, wasn't I? Never had to work."
"Those who have to work are the lucky ones, in my opinion."
He looked surprised, and shook his head.
"Couldn't have my yacht or my team—couldn't go off to shoot in the Rockies—couldn't do lots of things, if I had to work. Then, getting up early every morning.... Oh! it wouldn't suit me." After a minute's pause he went on: "You'll let me drive you in my team, one day? I'll get up a luncheon-party for you somewhere in the country. We'll have a band, and dance afterwards. We'll have a rare, good time."
"I shall do whatever my brother likes in New York. You must ask him. I shall have absolutely no will of my own. Will you give me those biscuits?... Thank you."
"We call them crackers. About your brother, I'll see that we have a lot of bright girls. There's Miss Planter. She is a belle; she will just suit him. She was made a lot of in London last season, I believe. She will have a million of dollars. Not bad, eh?"
"Bad, if she is to be married for the sake of them. It is fortunate she is attractive. I am glad that I have only enough to keep body and soul alive. No one will marry me for my money!"
"Oh, well, it won't signify to you, having nothing—" He stopped short and smiled at her. Then, though the connection of ideas was not very clear, he went on: "I say, Miss Ballinger, this is the second time I have been to Europe, but I've never seen anything of English society. I have fooled around in Paris and London a bit, but I have a mind next year to take a place in England, and hunt. Do you think I should like it? They say English women don't take to American men. Is that so?"
"We know so few. Most of you are too absorbed in business to spend much time with us. But your women are very popular. My brother says they are so much easier to get on with than his own countrywomen."
"That's right enough. But are not we American men easy to get on with, as well?"