'I'm afraid there's much danger.'
'Why did she send?'
'What an absurd question! You seem to have got into a thoroughly
morbid state of mind about her. Do be human, and put away your
obstinate folly.'
'In my position you would have acted precisely as I have done. I
have had no choice.'
'I might; but we have both of us too little practicality. The art
of living is the art of compromise. We have no right to foster
sensibilities, and conduct ourselves as if the world allowed of
ideal relations; it leads to misery for others as well as
ourselves. Genial coarseness is what it behoves men like you and
me to cultivate. Your reply to your wife's last letter was
preposterous. You ought to have gone to her of your own accord as
soon as ever you heard she was rich; she would have thanked you
for such common-sense disregard of delicacies. Let there be an
end of this nonsense, I implore you!'
Reardon stared through the glass at the snow that fell thicker
and thicker.
'What are we--you and I?' pursued the other. 'We have no belief
in immortality; we are convinced that this life is all; we know
that human happiness is the origin and end of all moral
considerations.
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