Kirk Munroe - "Wakulla"

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C. M. Ingleby - "Shakespeare's Bones"

William Shakespeare - "The Tragedie of Cymbeline"

The Metropolis

U >> Upton Sinclair >> The Metropolis




"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 some one that you
had made love to her so outrageously that she had to ask you to
leave the house."

Montague shrunk as 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.

"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 lew 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 part he had played in it. Everything seemed to have 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 him to do.
He hated the way he had got his money, and the way he had spent it.
He hated the idleness and wastefulness, the drunkenness and
debauchery, the meanness and the snobbishneps.

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!"

THE END

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