He had laid out his own career himself, and had carried every ambition to completion and reality.

The last twenty years had been years of fruition, of honors freely given, years of fulfillment.
He had not been, like Judge Ellis, intolerant of other men's failures; he had simply ignored them, never feeling any responsibility towards the weaker ones who fell in the race.

In his way, he prided himself upon a gentle, aloof philosophy of life which left him the boundaries of the old study as a horizon of happiness.
Probably not until that moment had he realized the gradual revolutionary process Kit had been putting him through ever since her arrival.

She had trained him into having an interest in other people and things, until now it was impossible for him not to see the picture of Greenacres as she did.
"How did you find out about this, my dear ?" he asked.
"Well," Kit replied, honestly, "partly from Billie and partly from this letter from Cousin Roxy.

You know Cousin Roxy, don't you, Uncle Cassius ?" The Dean's eyes twinkled reminiscently as he took the letter.
"Oh, yes, I remember Roxana well.