“She is splendid,” agreed Langley. “Yes. I was brought up with her. We went to school together. So Anthony wants you to know her. You’d better. She is a real person.”
“Jim,” Horatia went on, “why don’t you keep up with people like that instead of this Hubbell crowd? Don’t you like nice people better than anything? Not that Mrs. Hubbell isn’t nice. But after all she hasn’t much to contribute, now has she?”
“She can dance,” he answered lightly.
“What’s dancing?”
“It’s quite a lot of fun.”
“But I don’t see why you should need that sort of fun. I’m sure that these other people have fun too and they don’t take it in dancing and going around to public places. Not that I haven’t enjoyed myself a lot. You mustn’t think I’m ungracious enough not to admit that it was all fun for me—this going around with the Hubbell crowd. But after we’re married—don’t you think we might do the other crowd a bit? It sets you up.”
Jim reflected. He seemed to be thinking over his answer very carefully. Then he spoke.
“You want to realize, Horatia, that these people are interested in you and not in me. They like you and undoubtedly would be glad to have you in their circle—and in their family. They don’t want me. They don’t trust me and they don’t like me and that’s all there is to that. And if you marry me, I’m afraid they’ll drop you. As my wife you won’t be as—desirable.”
Horatia had flushed.
“Don’t, Jim,——” she begged, “don’t talk like that. Why, you’re so infinitely their superior—they aren’t in your mental class.”