"It's a Maelstrom; one would be sure to get drawn in. And it is a dirty business. You know the proverb about touching pitch."
"It need not be so, Philip."
"It brings one into disgusting contact and associations. My cigar is better."
"It does nobody any good except the tobacconist. And, Philip, it helps this habit of careless letting everything go, which you have got into."
"I take care of myself, and of my money," he said.
"Men ought to live for more than to take care of themselves."
"I was just trying to take care of somebody else, and you head me off! You should encourage a fellow better. One must make a beginning. And I would like to be of use to somebody, if I could."
"Go on," she said, with her faint smile again. "How do you propose that
I shall meet the increased expenditures of your Connecticut paradise?"
"You would like it?" he said eagerly.
"I cannot tell. But if the people are as pleasant as the place—it would be a paradise. Still, I cannot afford to live in paradise, I am afraid."