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Updated: June 23, 2025
"Why not?" asked Susan. Six dollars a week! Affluence! Wealth! Matson took his feet down, relit his cigar and swung himself into an oracular attitude. "I'll show you. What's manufacturin'? Right down at the bottom, I mean." He looked hard at the girl. She looked receptively at him. "Why, it's gettin' work out of the hands.
Medora tried to look as if at the heart of a tremendous vacuum. "I can't fill it." "You can fill fifteen minutes." "Oh, if you're going to confound time and space...!" He sat down receptively. Medora rang a bell and harried Helga a little. She glanced at Randolph. He sat there as if less to fill than to be filled. "Say something," she said. "Are you going to the convocation?" "No." He sat silent.
And again and again, at this point, I make the same discovery; I have been watching the story, that is to say, forgetful of the fact that there was more for me to do than to watch receptively and passively, forgetful of the novel that I should have been fashioning out of the march of experience as it passed.
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