“It’s just like a politician who goes around shaking hands with everybody to get votes,” the girl said.
“You said they’d dislike me,” Tom ventured to remind her.
“Yes, because you’re not big enough to be one of them and yet not actually live among them. There are very few big enough to surmount artificial arrangements.”
Poor Tom was quite staggered with such highbrow talk.
“How do you know how big Mr. Slade is?” Ferris burst out laughing. “You haven’t even taken a good look at him.”
This was not exactly true, for indeed she had taken a very good look at him. That was why she was arguing.
“Oh you don’t understand,” she sneered. “You admit he has to watch his step—you said so. If a person is born to be loved and trusted and looked up to, do you suppose he has to watch his step? I think myself that maybe it would be much better if Mr. Slade stays in the hotel where he can watch them.”
No doubt Brent Gaylong could have put this learned young lady out of the ring with one of his whimsical knock-out blows, but poor Tom was visibly impressed. There is a type of young fellow predestined to fall victim to the highbrow type of girl.
Tom, with all his prowess and wholesome intelligence, was simple and credulous. He felt that here was one who could see where he was blind. He realized how crude was his thinking in the light of Audry Ferris’ fine, discriminating vision. She was right, of course she was right. He was not big enough—whatever that meant....
“Well,” said he, “I’m going to live in the cottage if you’ll let me, that’s one thing sure.”