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THE MONEY MARKET
THE MONEY MARKET
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Scanned, proofed and corrected from the original edition for your reading pleasure. (Worth every penny!)
***
"WEALTH MAKETH MANY FRIENDS."
—Prov. xix: 4
***
Contents:
Chapter I. The Engagement
Chapter II. Percy
Chapter III. At Lord's
Chapter IV. Lady Otterbourne's Visitor
Chapter V. Abbotsworthy
Chapter VI. Blanche's Difficulty
Chapter VII. Parsifal
Chapter VIII. Lady Otterbourne's Difficulty
Chapter IX. The Broken Cast
Chapter X. The Eve of the Birthday
Chapter XI. The Birthday
Chapter XII. The Opening of the Letter
Chapter XIII. The Evening of the Birthday
Chapter XIV. Sybil Decides
Chapter XV. An Experiment
Chapter XVI. The Meeting at the Concert
Chapter XVII. The Resurrection
Chapter XVIII. The Song of Songs
***
An excerpt from the beginning of:
CHAPTER I.
The Engagement.
The curtain fell on the second act of Tristan und Isolde, and Lady Stoakley, who had been regarding the stage with a rigid and unmeaning eye, and sitting very upright, leaned back in her chair in the corner of the box, and, opening her fan, began to wave it to and fro, less with the object of cooling herself—for it was a June night with a temperature like that of midwinter in the polar regions—than of occupying her hands; indeed, she shivered as she fanned herself.
"I wish I had a million pounds," she said at length to her companion, in a rather fretful voice, like a child who is not allowed a particular toy.
Mrs. Montgomery did not cease examining the house through her opera glasses, but she sighed sympathetically.
"Yes, dear, we all wish that," she said, without putting down her glasses, "and if we had a million pounds each we should all wish we had another. Though I am not grasping, not really grasping I mean, I never yet had a thing I liked without wanting another of the same, and I should think that would be particularly the case with a million pounds. Those large round sums must be so satisfactory. Just like big pearls."
"Nonsense, a million is enough for anybody. It is even enough for two," said Lady Stoakley, so sharply that Mrs. Montgomery put down her glasses.
"You are thinking of Percy Gerard? " she asked.
"Of course I am. So are you. We all are. It is supposed to be vulgar to desire or to envy wealth. That is one of those absurd delusions which are confined to the wealthy. In my opinion, it is infinitely more vulgar to pretend not to desire it, besides which no one will believe that one does not- As for the nouveaux riches, it is absurd to pose as despising them. Who was it who remarked so excellently that there was no real difference between them and the old poor?"
"I don't know who said it. What did he say, in any case? I should have thought there was all the difference in the world between them."
'' No; one seeks to get position by means of its wealth, the other seeks to get wealth by means of its position. It is quite true: there is nothing to choose between them."
Mrs. Montgomery suddenly took up her opera glasses, as a shooter puts his gun to the shoulder when a bird rises, and let fly a snap-shot into a box opposite. She put them down again with an air of disappointment, as if she had missed.
"There is something in that," she said, "but there is not everything in it. Poor Lord Lanborne, whose blood is so blue that he always looks as if he was freezing, hasn't succeeded very well. He was made a director of some mine, you know, desiring to get wealth, I suppose, by means of his position, and, being conscientious, he thought he ought to go out to the Rand, or Rhodesia, or Rum-ti-foo, or wherever it was, and see the mine. He is one of our more particular peers. But he fell down a shaft, I think they call it, and broke his leg. Within a fortnight the company broke too, and they say the fracture is compound.''
"Which—his leg or the company?"
"Both, dear," said Mrs. Montgomery, again seizing her glasses.
Lady Stoakley laughed.
"He and his company are failures, that is all," she said. "If you instance the failure to a rule, you reverse the rule."
"The nouveaux riches never fail," murmured Mrs. Montgomery. "Percy Gerard will never fail. There he is; he has just come into the house. How absurdly young he looks."
"He is absurdly young," said Lady Stoakley; "he is only twenty-four, and you see by his grandfather's will he doesn't come of age till next year. That was so ingenious of old Mr. Gerard; it gives him four extra years. I wish somebody would give me four extra years and a million pounds. But why do you class him among the nouveaux riches?"
"I don't know. I suppose because he is so rich. That sort of fortune can't last long, and so it must be nouveau. Oh, yes, don't correct me...
***
"WEALTH MAKETH MANY FRIENDS."
—Prov. xix: 4
***
Contents:
Chapter I. The Engagement
Chapter II. Percy
Chapter III. At Lord's
Chapter IV. Lady Otterbourne's Visitor
Chapter V. Abbotsworthy
Chapter VI. Blanche's Difficulty
Chapter VII. Parsifal
Chapter VIII. Lady Otterbourne's Difficulty
Chapter IX. The Broken Cast
Chapter X. The Eve of the Birthday
Chapter XI. The Birthday
Chapter XII. The Opening of the Letter
Chapter XIII. The Evening of the Birthday
Chapter XIV. Sybil Decides
Chapter XV. An Experiment
Chapter XVI. The Meeting at the Concert
Chapter XVII. The Resurrection
Chapter XVIII. The Song of Songs
***
An excerpt from the beginning of:
CHAPTER I.
The Engagement.
The curtain fell on the second act of Tristan und Isolde, and Lady Stoakley, who had been regarding the stage with a rigid and unmeaning eye, and sitting very upright, leaned back in her chair in the corner of the box, and, opening her fan, began to wave it to and fro, less with the object of cooling herself—for it was a June night with a temperature like that of midwinter in the polar regions—than of occupying her hands; indeed, she shivered as she fanned herself.
"I wish I had a million pounds," she said at length to her companion, in a rather fretful voice, like a child who is not allowed a particular toy.
Mrs. Montgomery did not cease examining the house through her opera glasses, but she sighed sympathetically.
"Yes, dear, we all wish that," she said, without putting down her glasses, "and if we had a million pounds each we should all wish we had another. Though I am not grasping, not really grasping I mean, I never yet had a thing I liked without wanting another of the same, and I should think that would be particularly the case with a million pounds. Those large round sums must be so satisfactory. Just like big pearls."
"Nonsense, a million is enough for anybody. It is even enough for two," said Lady Stoakley, so sharply that Mrs. Montgomery put down her glasses.
"You are thinking of Percy Gerard? " she asked.
"Of course I am. So are you. We all are. It is supposed to be vulgar to desire or to envy wealth. That is one of those absurd delusions which are confined to the wealthy. In my opinion, it is infinitely more vulgar to pretend not to desire it, besides which no one will believe that one does not- As for the nouveaux riches, it is absurd to pose as despising them. Who was it who remarked so excellently that there was no real difference between them and the old poor?"
"I don't know who said it. What did he say, in any case? I should have thought there was all the difference in the world between them."
'' No; one seeks to get position by means of its wealth, the other seeks to get wealth by means of its position. It is quite true: there is nothing to choose between them."
Mrs. Montgomery suddenly took up her opera glasses, as a shooter puts his gun to the shoulder when a bird rises, and let fly a snap-shot into a box opposite. She put them down again with an air of disappointment, as if she had missed.
"There is something in that," she said, "but there is not everything in it. Poor Lord Lanborne, whose blood is so blue that he always looks as if he was freezing, hasn't succeeded very well. He was made a director of some mine, you know, desiring to get wealth, I suppose, by means of his position, and, being conscientious, he thought he ought to go out to the Rand, or Rhodesia, or Rum-ti-foo, or wherever it was, and see the mine. He is one of our more particular peers. But he fell down a shaft, I think they call it, and broke his leg. Within a fortnight the company broke too, and they say the fracture is compound.''
"Which—his leg or the company?"
"Both, dear," said Mrs. Montgomery, again seizing her glasses.
Lady Stoakley laughed.
"He and his company are failures, that is all," she said. "If you instance the failure to a rule, you reverse the rule."
"The nouveaux riches never fail," murmured Mrs. Montgomery. "Percy Gerard will never fail. There he is; he has just come into the house. How absurdly young he looks."
"He is absurdly young," said Lady Stoakley; "he is only twenty-four, and you see by his grandfather's will he doesn't come of age till next year. That was so ingenious of old Mr. Gerard; it gives him four extra years. I wish somebody would give me four extra years and a million pounds. But why do you class him among the nouveaux riches?"
"I don't know. I suppose because he is so rich. That sort of fortune can't last long, and so it must be nouveau. Oh, yes, don't correct me...
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