He knew that after a time Jack Prince would come and take
her to the theatre, leaving Janet and him to finish their talk.
Sam lighted his pipe and between puffs began talking, making a statement
that he knew would arouse her, and Janet, putting her hand impulsively on
his shoulder, began tearing the statement to bits.
"You talk!" she broke out. "Books are not full of pretence and lies; you
business men are--you and Jack Prince. What do you know of books? They are
the most wonderful things in the world. Men sit writing them and forget to
lie, but you business men never forget. You and books! You haven't read
books, not real ones. Didn't my father know; didn't he save himself from
insanity through books? Do I not, sitting here, get the real feel of the
movement of the world through the books that men write? Suppose I saw
those men. They would swagger and strut and take themselves seriously just
like you or Jack or the grocer down stairs. You think you know what's
going on in the world. You think you are doing things, you Chicago men of
money and action and growth. You are blind, all blind."
The little woman, a light, half scorn, half amusement in her eyes, leaned
forward and ran her fingers through Sam's hair, laughing down into the
astonished face he turned up to her.
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