dBooks desire

And what tact he has!--and how
generous he is!--and how beautifully he entertains!
So much dignity--so much simplicity--so much--''
``Fiddlesticks!'' interrupted Presbury. ``Your
daughter isn't a damn fool, Mrs. Presbury.''
Mildred gave a short, dry laugh.
Up flared her mother. ``I mean every word I said!''
cried she. ``If I hadn't admired and appreciated him,
I'd certainly not have acted as I did. _I_ couldn't stoop
to such hypocrisy.''
``Fiddlesticks!'' sneered Presbury. ``Bill Siddall is
a horror. His house is a horror. His dinner was a
horror. These loathsome rich people! They're ruining
the world--as they always have. They're making
it impossible for anyone to get good service or good
food or good furniture or good clothing or good
anything. They don't know good things, and they pay
exorbitant prices for showy trash, for crude vulgar
luxury. They corrupt taste. They make everyone
round them or near them sycophants and cheats. They
substitute money for intelligence and discrimination.


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