"If you wish to achieve success as modern society defines success,
you've been going at it all wrong," he remarked sagely. "The big rewards
do not lie in producing and creating, but in handling the results of
creation and production--at least so it seems to me. Get hold of
something the public wants, Thompson, and sell it to them. Or evolve a
sure method of making big business bigger. They'll fall on your neck and
fill your pockets with money if you can do that. Profitable
undertakings--that's the ticket. Anybody can work at a job."
That sounded rather cynical and Thompson said so. Carr laughed genially.
One couldn't escape obvious conclusions, he declared. Perhaps youth and
enthusiasm saw it differently.
Thompson, through sleep-heavy eyes, saw Carr hold a glass of port wine,
glowing like a ruby, up between himself and the light and sip it slowly.
Carr was partial to that wine. Wonder if the old chap didn't get
properly lit up sometimes? He looked as if--well, as if he enjoyed easy
living--easy drinking. There was brandy and soda and a bottle of Scotch
on the sideboard too.--And Sophie _was_ beautiful. All the little
feminine artifices of civilization accentuated the charm that had been
potent enough in the woods.
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