"I mean make any social demands on you…. And, as for the world—" He slowly shook his head again: "We could make our own friends and our own way—if she would only consent to do it. But she never will."
"Do you mean to say she will not marry you if you ask her?" began Lily incredulously.
"Absolutely."
"Why?"
"For your sakes—yours, and mother's, and father's—and for mine."
There was a long silence, then Lily said unsteadily:
"There—there seems to be a certain—nobility—about her…. It is a pity—a tragedy—that she is what she is!"
"It is a tragedy that the world is what it is," he said. "Good night."
* * * * *
His father sent for him in the morning; Louis found him reading the Tribune in his room and sipping a bowl of hot milk and toast.