The culture and the intellectual life that is dependent upon mere
environment is a crippled culture and a sickly life. The mind that
cannot find its food for thought wherever it may be planed will never
hobble very far on crutches of superficial cults and societies. You are
leaving the substance, child, for the shadow. You are seeking the fads
and fancies of shallow idlers, and turning your back upon eternal facts.
You are following after silly fools who are chasing bubbles over the
edge of God's good world. Believe me, girl, I know--God! but I do know
what that life, stripped of its tinseled and spangled show, means. Take
the good grain, child, and let the husks go."
As the man spoke, Kitty watched him as though she were intently
interested; but, in truth, her thoughts were more on the speaker than on
what he said.
"You are in earnest, aren't you, Patches?" she murmured softly.
"I am," he returned sharply, for he saw that she was not even
considering what he had said. "I know how mistaken you are; I know what
it will mean to you when you find how much you have lost and how little
you have gained."
"And how am I mistaken? Do I not know what I want? Am I not better able
than anyone else to say what satisfies me and what does not?"
"No," he retorted, almost harshly, "you are not.
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