"I should not be sorry. You take things too coolly. It exasperates me.
And then you are too happy. You have what must be the most agreeable
thing in the world, the consciousness of having bought your pleasure
beforehand and paid for it. You have not a day of reckoning staring you
in the face. Your reckonings are over."

"Well, I suppose I am happy," said Newman, meditatively.

"You have been odiously successful."

"Successful in copper," said Newman, "only so-so in railroads, and a
hopeless fizzle in oil."

"It is very disagreeable to know how Americans have made their money.
Now you have the world before you. You have only to enjoy."

"Oh, I suppose I am very well off," said Newman. "Only I am tired of
having it thrown up at me. Besides, there are several drawbacks. I am
not intellectual."

"One doesn't expect it of you," Mrs. Tristram answered. Then in a
moment, "Besides, you are!"

"Well, I mean to have a good time, whether or no," said Newman. "I am
not cultivated, I am not even educated; I know nothing about history,
or art, or foreign tongues, or any other learned matters. But I am not
a fool, either, and I shall undertake to know something about Europe by
the time I have done with it. I feel something under my ribs here," he
added in a moment, "that I can't explain--a sort of a mighty hankering,
a desire to stretch out and haul in."