Sylvia perceived the intensity behind his words, and was silent for a minute. “But surely,” she said, “here—in the democracy of college life——”
“It’s exactly the same here as anywhere else. Here are clubs, social cabals, everybody pushing and intriguing, exactly as in New York society. Take that fact you spoke of—that all the fellows dislike me, and yet not one of them has dared to tell me so!”
“Dared?” repeated Sylvia.
“Oh, well, perhaps they dared—the point is, they didn’t. The ones who had to make their own way were busy making it; and the others, who had got in of right—well, they believe in money. They’d all shrug their shoulders and say, ‘What’s the use of antagonizing such a man?’”
“I see,” said Sylvia, fascinated.
“Whatever the reason is, they never call me down—not a man of them. And then, as for the women——”
Sylvia had not made any sound, but somehow he felt her sudden interest. He said, with signs of agitation, “Please, Miss Castleman, don’t be offended. You asked me to talk about it.”
“Go on,” she said. “I’m really most curious. I suppose all the women want to marry you?”
“It isn’t only that. They want anything. They just want to be seen with me. Of course, when they start to make love to me—” He paused.
“You stop them, I hope,” said Sylvia, modestly.