Alpha Book

Ruthven lay back in her seat, thoroughly annoyed.
"My theory," insisted the boy with generous conviction, "is that a man
is what he makes himself. People talk about climbers and butters-in, but
where would anybody be in this town if nobody had ever butted in? It's
all rot, this aping the caste rules of established aristocracies; a
decent fellow ought to be encouraged. Anyway, I'm going to propose, him
for the Stuyvesant and the Proscenium. Why not?"
"I see. And now you propose to bring him to my house?"
"If you'll let me. I asked Jack and he seemed to think it might be all
right if you cared to ask him to play--"
"I won't!" cried Alixe, revolted. "I will not turn my drawing-rooms into
a clearing-house for every money-laden social derelict in town! I've had
enough of that; I've endured the accumulated wreckage too long!--weird
treasure-craft full of steel and oil and coal and wheat and Heaven knows
what!--I won't do it, Gerald; I'm sick of it all--sick! sick!"
The sudden, flushed outburst stunned the boy.


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