He would make the effort, but it would tax his whole strength.
As he strolled along the down, dismally smoking and pondering, he made
himself contemplate the then and now--taking stock, as it were, of his
life. In this truth-compelling darkness, apart from the stimulus of his
mother's tyranny, he felt himself to be two men: one in love with Diana,
the other in love with success and political ambition, and money as the
agent and servant of both. He had never for one moment envisaged the
first love--Diana--as the alternative to, or substitute for the second
love--success. As he had conceived her up to twenty-four hours before,
Diana was to be, indeed, one of the chief elements and ministers of
success. In winning her, he was, in fact, to make the best of both
worlds. A certain cool analytic gift that he possessed put all this
plainly before him. And now it must be a choice between Diana and all
those other desirable things.
Take the poverty first. What would it amount to? He knew approximately
what was Diana's fortune. He had meant--with easy generosity--to leave
it all in her hands, to do what she would with. Now, until his mother
came to her senses, they must chiefly depend upon it.
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