She made the same appeal once to her husband in regard to
their own lives. She wanted to see and know more of him, his
business, his inner life, and this was her cry: 'Paul, I'm
sure there's something the matter with the way we live--I
don't like it! I don't see that it helps us a bit--or anyone
else--you're just killing yourself to make money that goes
to get things we don't need nearly as much as we need more
of each other! We're not getting a bit nearer to each
other--actually further away, for we're both getting different
from what we were without the other's knowing how! And we're
not getting nicer--and what's the use of living if we don't do
that? We're just getting more and more set on scrambling ahead
of other people. And we're not even having a good time out
of it! And here is Ariadne--and another one coming--and we've
nothing to give them but just this--this--this--

Paul laughed a little impatiently, irritated and uneasy, as
he always was at any attempt to examine too closely the
foundations of existing ideas. 'Why, Lydia, what's the matter
with you? You sound as though you'd been reading some fool
socialist literature or something.'

You know I don't read anything, Paul. I never hear about
anything but novels. I never have time for anything else, and
very likely I couldn't understand it if I read it, not having
any education. That's one thing I want you to help me with.
All I want is a chance for us to live together a little more,
to have a few more thoughts in common, and oh! to be trying to
be making something better out of ourselves for our children's
sake. I can't see that we're learning to be anything but--you,