"Well, don't you think there _is_ something wrong with the present
arrangement of things, Eddie?"

"No, I don't, and I hate to hear you talk like a socialist."

"I am a socialist."

"You're nothing of the kind."

"I suppose I know what I am."

"Not at all--not at all."

"I certainly think the rich are too rich, while the poor are so
horridly poor."

"_You'd_ get on well without your maid and your car and your father's
charge accounts at all the shops, wouldn't you?"

Though agreeable to talk seriously if you agree, it is correspondingly
dangerous if you disagree. Crystal stood up, trembling with an emotion
which Eddie, although he was rather angry himself, considered utterly
unaccountable.

"Yes," she said, almost proudly, "I _am_ luxurious, I _am_ dependent
on those things. But whose fault is that? It's the way I was brought
up--it's all wrong. But, even though I am dependent on them, I believe
I could exist without them. I'd feel like killing myself if I didn't
think so. Sometimes I want to go away and find out if I couldn't
live and be myself without all this background of luxury. But at the