"Be great—be great. I'm old, I've lived, I've seen. Go in for a great material position. That will simplify everything else."
"I'll do what I can for you—anything, everything I can. Trust me—leave me alone," Nick went on.
"And you'll stay over—you'll spend the day with her?"
"I'll stay till she turns me out!"
His mother had hold of his hand again now: she raised it to her lips and kissed it. "My dearest son, my only joy!" Then: "I don't see how you can resist her," she added.
"No more do I!"
She looked about—there was so much to look at—with a deep exhalation. "If you're so fond of art, what art is equal to all this? The joy of living in the midst of it—of seeing the finest works every day! You'll have everything the world can give."
"That's exactly what was just passing in my own mind. It's too much," Nick reasoned.
"Don't be selfish!"
"Selfish?" he echoed.