Page 301 - tender-is-the-night

had been sure of what he was, with a deep pride of the two
proud widows who had raised him to believe that nothing
could be superior to ‘good instincts,’ honor, courtesy, and
courage.
The father always considered that his wife’s small fortune
belonged to his son, and in college and in medical school
sent him a check for all of it four times a year. He was one
of those about whom it was said with smug finality in the
gilded age: ‘very much the gentleman, but not much get-up-
and-go about him.’
... Dick sent down for a newspaper. Still pacing to and
from the telegram open on his bureau, he chose a ship to
go to America. Then he put in a call for Nicole in Zurich,
remembering so many things as he waited, and wishing he
had always been as good as he had intended to be.

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