“No, dash it all, don’t think it is a subtle form of suicide. Rather then as a new phase of my notorious passion for gambling. I must have excitement. It is a game with a rather higher stake than usual, that’s all....”
“Well, but how are your affairs?”
“My affairs,” said Stellan with a shrug of his shoulders. “I have no affairs, only debts. But they are of no importance anyhow. Just sufficient to keep me from getting fat. They keep one up to the mark.”
Stellan’s financial position was bad. And still his superior airs were not all pose. He did not worry over his position. If he had done that he would have been lost. It never occurred to him to refuse himself anything; on the contrary. He, Stellan Selamb, must of course live up to his position. The best was, of course, always for him and his like. It is an enormous source of strength to have such an inborn conviction. Because you usually get what you consider should as a matter of course be yours.
It was this elegant microcosm of upper class prejudices that kept Stellan afloat.
Laura looked at her brother with something almost resembling admiration. His assurance, his elegant bearing, his haughty smile, impressed her:
“There is an easy solution,” she said in a significant tone.
Stellan suddenly looked bored. He understood only too well what Laura meant. The great day of settlement was approaching when he would have to produce the heiress in anticipation of whom he had drawn so many bills.
“Damn it,” he muttered, “you too! My colonel attacked me the other day and asked if I did not mean to get married. He must have heard something alarming. And do you know what that idiot Ohrnfeldt said the other day when I got him to indorse a note for me? ‘It is your duty as an honest man to marry a rich girl,’ he said. Not bad, what? I am a positive enigma to those honest souls. They think I have let several fine chances slip through my fingers.”
“Well, but why do you neglect those ... chances?”