"My husband and I," Mrs. Eveleth went on again, "belong to that New York
element which dates back to the time when the city was New Amsterdam,
and the State, the New Netherlands. To you that means nothing, but in
America it tells much. I was Naomi de Ruyter; my husband, on his
mother's side, was a Van Tromp."

"Really?" Diane murmured, feeling that Mrs. Eveleth's tone of pride
required a response. "I know there's a Mr. van Tromp here--the American
banker."

"He is of the same family as my husband's mother. For nearly three
hundred years they've lived on the island of Manhattan, and seen their
farms and pastures grow into the second city in the world. The world has
poured in on them, literally in millions. It would have submerged them
if there hadn't been something in that old stock that couldn't be kept
down. However high the tide rose, they floated on the top. My people
were thrifty and industrious. They worked hard, saved money, and lived
in simple ways. They cared little for pleasure, for beauty, or for any
of the forms of art; but, on the contrary, they lived for work, for
religion, for learning, and all the other high and serious pursuits. It
was fine; but I hated it."

"Naturally."

"I longed to get away from it, and when I married I persuaded my husband
to give up his profession and his home in order to establish himself
here."

"But surely you can't regret that? You were free."