The Metropolis

All day long he sat in his office, brooding and nursing his wrath. He had moods when he wished to drop everything, to shake the dust of the city from his feet, and go back home and recollect what it was to be a gentleman. And then again he had fighting moods, when he wished to devote all his life to punishing the men who had made use of him. He would get hold of some other policy-holder in the Fidehty, one whom he could trust; he would take the case without pay, and carry it through to the end! He would force the newspapers to talk about it — he would force the people to heed what he said!

And then, toward evening, he went home, bitter and sore. And there was his brother sitting in his study, waiting for him.

"Hello," he said, and took off his coat, preparing his mind for one more ignominy — the telling of his misfortune to Oliver, and listening to his inevitable, " I told you so."

But Ohver himself had something to communicate, something that would not bear keeping. He broke out at once — " Tell me, Allan! Wkai in the world has happened between you and Mrs. Winnie.?"

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"What do you mean?" asked Montague, sharply.

"Why," said Oliver, "everybody is talking about some kind of a quarrel."

" There has been no quarrel," said Montague.

"Well, what is it, then.?"

"It's nothing."

"It must be something!" exclaimed Oliver. "What do all the stories mean?"

"What stories?"

"About you two. I met Mrs. Vivie Patton just now, and she swore me to secrecy, and told me that Mrs. Winnie had told someone that you had made love to her so outrageously that she had to ask you to leave the house."

Montague shrunk as if from a blow. " Oh!" he gasped.

"That's what she said," said he.

"It's a lie!" he cried.

"That's what I told Mrs. Vivie," said the other; " it doesn't sound like you —"

Montague had flushed scarlet. "I don't mean that!" he cried. "I mean that Mrs. Winnie never said any such thing."

"Oh," said Oliver, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe not," he added. But I know she's furious with you about something — everybody's talking about it. She tells people that she'll never speak to you again. And what I want to know is, why is it that you have to do things to make enemies of everybody you know?"

Montague said nothing; he was trembling with anger.

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"What in the world did you do to her?" began the other. " Can't you trust me —"

And suddenly Montague sprang to his feet. "Oh, Oliver," he exclaimed, "let me alone! Go away!"

And he went into the next room and slammed the door, and began pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

It was a lie! It was a lie ! Mrs. Winnie had never said such a thing! He would never believe it — it was a nasty piece of backstairs gossip!

But then a new burst of rage swept over him. What did it matter whether it was true or not — whether anything was true or not? What did it matter if anybody had done all the hideous and loathsome things that everybody else said they had done? It was what everybody was saying! It was what everybody believed — what everybody was interested in! It was the measure of a whole society — their ideals and their standards! It was the way they spent their time, repeating nasty scandals about each other; living in an atmosphere of suspicion and cynicism, with endless whispering and leering, and gossip of low intrigue.

A flood of rage surged up within him, and swept him away — rage against the world into which he had come, and against himself for the

Eart he had played in it. Everything seemed to ave come to a head at once; and he hated everything — hated the people he had met, and the things they did, and the things they had tempted nim to do. He hated the way he had

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got his money, and the way he had spent it. He hated the idleness and wastefulness, the drunkenness and debauchery, the meanness and the snobbishness.

And suddenly he turned and flung open the door of the room where Oliver still sat. And he stood in the doorway, exclaiming, "Oliver, I'm done with it!"

Oliver stared at him. " What do you mean ? " he asked.

"I mean," cried his brother, "that I've had all I can stand of ' Society'! And I'm going to quit. You can go on — but I don't intend to take another step with you! I've had enough — and I think Alice has had enough, also. We'll take ourselves off your hands — we'll get out!"

"What are you going to do?" gasped Oliver.

"I'm going to give up these expensive apartments — give them up to-morrow, when our week is up. And I'm going to stop squandering money for things I don't want. I'm going to stop accepting invitations, and meeting people I don t like and don't want to know. I ve tried your game — I've tried it hard, and I don't like it; and I'm going to get out before it's too late. I'm going to find some decent and simple place to live in; and I'm going downtown and find out if there isn't some way in New York for a man to earn an honest living!"

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