“If you don't know I can't tell you.”
“I think I know.” He folded his handkerchief again to find a spot unstained. “You wanted me to fit into some ideal of me you had formed. Am I to blame because I can't do it? Isn't the fault with your austerity? I've got to follow my own convictions—not Jeff's, not even yours. Life's a fight, and it's every man for himself. He has to work out his own salvation in his own way. Nobody can do it for him. The final test is his success or failure. I'm going to succeed.”
“Are you?” The compassion of her look he could not understand. “But how shall we define success?”
“It's getting power and wielding it.”
“But doesn't it depend on how one wields it?”
“Yes. It must be made to produce big results. Now my idea of a successful man is your uncle, Joe Powers.”
“And my idea of one is your cousin, Jefferson Farnum.”
The young man sat up. “You're not seriously telling me that you think Jeff is successful as compared with Joe Powers?”
“Yes. In my opinion he is the most successful man I ever met.”
James was annoyed. “I expect you have a monopoly in that opinion, Miss Frome—unless Jeff shares it.”