Читать книгу White Magic. A Novel онлайн

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“Isn’t that strange!” mused she. “Do you really mean it?” She blushed, hastily added: “Of course, I know you mean it. You mustn’t mind my saying that. You see, the people I know are entirely different. That’s why I feel this is all—unreal—a dream.... You honestly don’t care about wealth—and social position—and all that? Not a bit?”

“Why should I?” said he indifferently. “It isn’t in my game—and one cares only about the things that are in his game.”

“That other game—it seems a very poor sort to you, doesn’t it?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Yes, I know it does. It seems so to me, whenever I’m—here—and even when I’m not here.”

“Why bother about such things?” said he in the tone that indicates total lack of interest.

After a pause she said: “You may not believe it, but I’m a frightful snob—out there.”

“But not here. There’s nothing here to be snob about—thank God!”

“Yes—I’m as different as possible—out there,” she went on. “There are people I detest whom I’m sweet to because of what they are socially. I’m like the rest of the girls—crazy about social position and fond of snubbing people—and——”