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 down town to find out if there isn’t some way in New York for a man to earn an honest living!”