“Oh, power. Money. Position. Being somebody.”
“I’m somebody here all right. I’m the station-agent of the Atkinson and St. Philip Railroad Company.”
“Now you’re trying to provoke me.”
“No. But to get success you’ve got to want it, haven’t you?” he asked more earnestly. “To want it with all your strength.”
“Of course. Every man ought to.”
“I’m not so sure,” he objected. “There’s a kind of virtue in staying put, isn’t there?”
She made a little gesture of impatience.
“I’ll give you a return for your sonnet,” he pursued, and repeated from memory:
“What else is Wisdom? What of man’s endeavor Or God’s high grace, so lovely and so great? To stand from fear set free, to breathe and wait; To hold a hand uplifted over Hate. And shall not Loveliness be loved forever?”
“I don’t know it. It’s beautiful. What is it?”