"You have been wondering, I suppose, like all the rest of the world," he
began, "why I sent for you here. I am going to tell you. But first of
all let me know this. Are you satisfied with what I have done for you,
and for your people? In other words, have you any feeling of what
people, I believe, call gratitude towards me?"
"I wonder that you can ask me that," she answered, a little tremulously.
"You know that I am very, very grateful indeed."
"You like your life?" he asked. "You find it"--he hesitated for a
moment--"more amusing than at Wellham Springs?"
"I am only an ordinary girl," she answered simply, "and you must realize
what the difference means. Life there was a sort of struggle which led
nowhere. Here I don't see how any one could be happier than I. Apart
from that, what you have done for the others counts, I think, for more
than anything with me."
"I am glad," he answered, "that you are satisfied. You think, perhaps,
from what you have seen since you came here that the power of money has
no limits. I can tell you that it has very fixed and definite limits,
and it was when I realized them that I sent for you. I hope to gain from
you what in all New York I should not know where to buy.
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