"Never mind, mamma. I'll say it. Is Mr. James Sheridan, Junior,
stupid? I'm sure he's not at all stupid about business. Otherwise
--Oh, what right have I to be calling people 'stupid' because they're
not exactly my kind? On the big dinner-table they had enormous icing
models of the Sheridan Building--"
"Oh, no!" Mrs. Vertrees cried. "Surely not!"
"Yes, and two other things of that kind--I don't know what. But,
after all, I wondered if they were so bad. If I'd been at a dinner
at a palace in Italy, and a relief or inscription on one of the old
silver pieces had referred to some great deed or achievement of the
family, I shouldn't have felt superior; I'd have thought it
picturesque and stately--I'd have been impressed. And what's the
real difference? The icing is temporary, and that's much more modest,
isn't it? And why is it vulgar to feel important more on account of
something you've done yourself than because of something one of your
ancestors did? Besides, if we go back a few generations, we've all
got such hundreds of ancestors it seems idiotic to go picking out one
or two to be proud of ourselves about. Well, then, mamma, I managed
not to feel superior to Mr.
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