Benighted Dorothy Lennard, on the other hand, fluked into her wretched success by sheer luck. She had never an ideal to her name, never realized that the best possession to which she could lay claim was a certain knack, a certain low business cunning. And it was only to be expected that this should pay her, in mere despicable cash, twenty times as well as Amory’s purer awen had paid. Amory was not in the least envious. Poor Dorothy would need it all, and more. However rich she became, she could never become a prophet; she might become a millionaire, but she could never qualify for the martyr’s crown. Amory hoped her money might make her happy. But she did not see how it could.
But to this fluke of Dorothy’s:—
When, long, long before, Dorothy Lennard had told Amory Towers that she had an idea that alone had made her wealthy as she stood, she had spoken with a superb confidence. Amory had looked for something of national, nay, more, of feminist value; but later she had begun to think that Dorothy had been merely giving utterance to an idle boast; some people, seeing others achieving something, must needs boast, merely to keep up appearances. Since that day Dorothy had kept her own counsel. She had kept her project even from Mr. Miller, without whom she had known she could do nothing; she had kept it from Miss Benson, and Miss Umpleby, and for long enough, from her cousin Stanhope. But presently she had had to tell Stan. He shared her sandwiches, and must share her ignoble scheming also.
It appeared that Mr. Miller and Hallowells’ were to provide the money for them to marry on. They must marry, they told one another twenty times a week—simply must. It was stupid, Stan said, not marrying; what on earth was there not to get married about? He didn’t believe in that off-and-on sort of business, as if they didn’t know their own minds.... But ought second cousins to marry? Dorothy had urged (scuffling disgustingly for the biggest bite of the sandwich); wasn’t it said to be a bad thing? Weren’t all these Eugenist people always saying what a bad thing it was? Miss Towers said so—
“Was that Miss Towers, that red-haired little thing you were in such a paddy with that day?”
“What day?”
“The day she caught us—doing this.”
“(There, I’m glad you pricked yourself!)... Yes, that was Miss Towers.”
“Seemed to creep up rather quietly, didn’t she?”
“Stan! Of course she didn’t!”