When the offer was made to Mortimer he accepted with a bright: "Oh, thanks,
old chap. I'd like it immensely," But when, on the first day of his
membership, he stood in one of the front windows and gazed out at the ruins
opposite--the Pacific Union Club and the Fairmont Hotel were still two
oases in the rubbled waste of Nob Hill--he felt so exultant and so happy
that he dared not open his lips lest he betray himself. He could mount no
higher socially. All that he had to strive for now was his million--or
millions. When he had half a million he would build a house at Burlingame
that could be enlarged from time to time.
Only with the "Rincona crowd" he had made no headway. Maria did not
hesitate to comment on the extravagance of doing the house over, the
membership at the club with all it entailed, Alexina's little electric
car, and above all the constant entertaining. A moderate amount was due
Alexina's position; but open house--nothing made money fly so quickly.
Prices were getting higher every day (there came a time, in the wake of the
great war, when she looked back with sad amazement at the morning of her
discontent) and rich people were getting richer while poor people like
themselves (she meant what Alexina still called the A. A.) were growing
poorer.
Tom Abbott had not put Mortimer up at the club. He happened to know that
although his brother-in-law was doing fairly well he was not making a
fortune, and suspected that he dabbled in stocks.
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