But after this long discontent, Robert Chalmers finds that Chicago
mourns for him. He is flattered. "I earned it!" he cries, and goes in
search of the books that once eased him--the identical copies.

The movement for a cenotaph makes him smile. On the whole, he is glad
men are so sentimental about monuments. He is glad, however, that no
monument will be erected.

It is undoubtedly embarrassing.

He is thinking too much of Chicago. He must begin this second life on
a new principle. He must forget David Lockwin. It grows apparent to
the man that his brain will not bear the load which now rests upon it.
He must rather dwell upon the miseries that he has escaped He must
canvass the good fortune of a single and irresponsible citizen, Robert
Chalmers, who has no less than $74,500 in bank. He must put his mind
on business.

No!

One reason for quitting the old life was the desire to pass a studious
life.

Well, then, he must wait patiently for that period when his mind will
be quiet. A certain thought at last reanimates him.

Would it not be well to act as a clerk until the weariness of servitude
should make freedom pleasing? This is both philosophical and thrifty.