“Chatsworth had an ancestor that was president of Harvard.”
“There, you see? If Chatsworth had gone to Harvard he’d have been in one of their best final clubs, but here he was left out in the cold. I wish we could get him in our club.”
“He wouldn’t come in now. And anyway, I’m going to have to work hard for my own candidate.”
“Your future brother-in-law. You have your work cut out for you. Dave’s a nice kid, but a wish-wash.”
“No he isn’t, not really. He’ll improve with age.”
“George, he’s a wish-wash. He’s a perfect example of a no-bid fellow. Don’t get into a scuffle over Dave Fenstermacher. You’re the only man in the club’s going to be for him. He may get a bid to some place, but everybody in our crowd is going to think that you only want him because you’re going to marry his sister. Another thing you ought to take into consideration, it won’t break his heart if he doesn’t make a club. He must know by this time where he stands.”
“You never know, and you always keep hoping.”
“Well, I’ll grant you that. You do keep hoping.” O’Byrne laughed. “When I got my bids, for about sixty seconds I thought maybe one of them would be Ivy.”
“Would you have taken Ivy?”
“No. For one reason, and one reason only. I couldn’t learn to stomach Jack Harbord. That mealy-mouthed hypocrite, there’ll never be room on this earth for the two of us. If I heard he was at death’s door I wouldn’t blow my nose to save his life.”
“Well, when we leave here we’ll never have to see him again.”
“I won’t. You will. You’ll never see me at a class reunion. The last Princeton thing I do will be to usher at your wedding, and then I’m going to disappear. I’m heading straight for the Kimberley, to make my fortune in the diamond fields.”
“You never liked it here. Why did you stay? Family?”
“Why else would I stay? My father. I’m very fond of my old man. I understand him perfectly, you know. My mother was determined that at least one of us would become a Jesuit priest, but my father was just as determined we wouldn’t. So he pushed Kevin and me into Princeton, away from the Jesuits, and then my younger brother into Yale. He’s hoping that I’ll follow Kevin into medical school, but he knows it’s a forlorn hope.”
“Why is he so much against the Jesuits? He’s a Catholic.”
“He’s a Catholic, but in Ireland he went to the Brothers, the Christian Brothers, and the Jesuits try to make them feel that they’re hoi polloi. And maybe they are. I think they are, but I’m a snob. Anyway, there’s always some Jesuit having dinner at our house and my old man has been fed up with them for years, the way my mother worships them. I’ve observed on occasion that my old man is also a bit fed up with my mother, though he may try to hide it.”
“I’ll tell you something in strict confidence. I think my mother and father really hate each other. I’ve never said that to another human being.”
“That’s no rarity, George. The number of husbands and wives that hate each other must be appalling, appalling. It’s one of the reasons why you never hear of me going out with a nice Catholic girl. I don’t want to get married, but I’m soft-hearted and if I fell for a Catholic girl I’d hear myself proposing to her some moonlight night. Therefore, to be on the safe side, I bestow the privilege of my company on Protestant girls and now and then a pretty little Jewess. That should keep me a bachelor for a good many years. But don’t let me discourage you, George.”
“You don’t. Lalie and I aren’t like my father and mother.”
“Your mother I take it was English extraction.”
“No, she was Pennsylvania Dutch, the same as Lalie’s family.”
“Oh, but Lalie—nothing against your mother, mind you, but in your mother’s time girls weren’t given much of an education.”
“Well, my mother had the same amount of schooling as Lalie. In fact, my mother was pretty bright. Is, I should say. She can read French and High German, as well as speak Pennsylvania Dutch.”
“I see. You mean that you and your father are different.”
“Yes. Very different.”
“I only saw your father that one time when he stopped off to see you. I thought you were very much alike, but you can’t tell much from such a short meeting. You didn’t look very much like him, but you had some of the same mannerisms.”
“He’s all business.”
“Well—you’re not all monkey-shines, if it comes to that. When you set your mind to a thing—”
“Are you trying to tell me I’m like my father? I’m not. We’re very different, outside and inside.”
“I wouldn’t argue that question. I don’t know what you’re like inside.”
“Funny you should say that.”
“Why?”
“My brother said that about my father. ‘Nobody knows what Father’s like inside.’ The same words … So you’re going to South Africa?”
“Unless I change my mind. You know. Last year I wanted to go to Oxford. I expect to be a citizen of the world, and I thought Oxford would give me the right polish. Not to mention the entree that being an Oxford man gives you. I forget why I gave that up. I guess I fell under the influence of Villon. But now I fully intend to make a great fortune in the Kimberley, buy a steam yacht and equip it with heavy guns and prey on British shipping. In other words, become a pirate. A freebooter. Then maybe be a sort of Patrick Sarsfield, raise hell in Ireland. Every so often we have to remind the English that they’re trespassing.”
“Do you really think you’ll ever do any of this, Ned?”
“Well, it takes money.”
“I meant go to South Africa.”
“That takes money, too. I won’t travel steerage. I may have to spend the rest of this year playing cards with Chatsworth and Davenport. I wish Harbord played cards, but he promised his mother. So he says. I don’t believe him for a minute. He just doesn’t want to gamble.”
“How much money have you won from Chatsworth?”
“Altogether? I guess about three thousand, but that wasn’t all clear profit, as you well know. You took your share of it, and I don’t want you to play in May and June, when I open my big final campaign on the Chatsworth bankroll. When you’re in the game the others try to play like you, and it’s a restraining influence on the betting. Davenport especially. Is your fiancée going to let you play cards?”
“Let me play cards? It’s not up to her whether I play cards or not. I’d never ask a woman permission to do a thing like that. I’d just go and do it.”
“Well, good for you, and the best of luck,” said Ned O’Byrne.
In late winter, following conversations with Lalie and her mother, George arranged to meet Judge Fenstermacher to obtain his consent to the marriage. “You write a good letter, George. I like a good letter. It tells a lot about a man if he can express his thoughts without committing himself too much. But now you want to commit yourself, don’t you?”
“Yes sir. I wish to ask for Eulalie’s hand in marriage.”
“Yes. Well, you’ve had this understanding for some time now and both of you have a level head on your shoulders. I’m going to give my consent. I’ve looked into your background, and I’ve observed you in my house. Yes, you may marry Eulalie, and I trust you’ll both be very happy.”
“Thank you sir.”
“Mrs. Fenstermacher informs me that you wish to announce the engagement after you graduate.”
“Yes sir.”
“What do you plan to do for a living, George? I know your people are comfortable, but what do you expect to go into?”