fensiveness and feeling far more; so much, indeed, that it surprised him. "The family business is there."
"I greeted the grim and growling world from Santa Barbara," observed Lida, "but that doesn't impel me in the least toward the consecration of the rest of my young years to the spot. I don't even know where my business is. Its name is Anaconda. I can find it on the ticker; that's enough for me."
"J. A. Rountree and Son," said Jay, "used to mean grandfather and father; now it means father and me."
"Then you own some of it?"
"No; but I will if I work."
"In Chicago?"
"That's where they keep the bottom of the ladder."
"Why do you worry about the bottom?"
"I've got to begin getting in money."
"For whom?"
"You."
"My grieving God, d'you see me needing money?"
"I need it," corrected Jay. "I know you don't."
"Then neither do you. We have it; we've all we can want, don't you see? Spend it; spend it with me, Jay. God knows I need help with it. We'll spend it. What'll we do with work? What'll we do with more money? We have what we want; we can go where we want, live as we want, do as we want right now—now . . ."
For the moment, in the dark, he held her tight in his arms; for the moment, he had the sensation of being lured to leap with her. It increased, when he shut his eyes; it was like a sensation of height, like standing at the edge of the roof of a very tall building and feeling drawn to
