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He
remembered
one
day
in
the
subway
when
a
delivery
boy
had
brought
in
a
great
funeral
wreath
of
fresh
flowers
,
how
the
smell
of
it
had
suddenly
cleared
the
air
and
given
every
one
in
the
car
a
momentary
glow
.
"
I
detest
poor
people
,
"
thought
Amory
suddenly
.
"
I
hate
them
for
being
poor
.
Poverty
may
have
been
beautiful
once
,
but
it
's
rotten
now
.
It
's
the
ugliest
thing
in
the
world
.
It
's
essentially
cleaner
to
be
corrupt
and
rich
than
it
is
to
be
innocent
and
poor
.
"
He
seemed
to
see
again
a
figure
whose
significance
had
once
impressed
him
--
a
well-dressed
young
man
gazing
from
a
club
window
on
Fifth
Avenue
and
saying
something
to
his
companion
with
a
look
of
utter
disgust
.
Probably
,
thought
Amory
,
what
he
said
was
:
"
My
God
!
Are
n't
people
horrible
!
"
Never
before
in
his
life
had
Amory
considered
poor
people
.
He
thought
cynically
how
completely
he
was
lacking
in
all
human
sympathy
.
O.
Henry
had
found
in
these
people
romance
,
pathos
,
love
,
hate
--
Amory
saw
only
coarseness
,
physical
filth
,
and
stupidity
.
He
made
no
self-accusations
:
never
any
more
did
he
reproach
himself
for
feelings
that
were
natural
and
sincere
.
He
accepted
all
his
reactions
as
a
part
of
him
,
unchangeable
,
unmoral
.
This
problem
of
poverty
transformed
,
magnified
,
attached
to
some
grander
,
more
dignified
attitude
might
some
day
even
be
his
problem
;
at
present
it
roused
only
his
profound
distaste
.
He
walked
over
to
Fifth
Avenue
,
dodging
the
blind
,
black
menace
of
umbrellas
,
and
standing
in
front
of
Delmonico
's
hailed
an
auto-bus
.
Buttoning
his
coat
closely
around
him
he
climbed
to
the
roof
,
where
he
rode
in
solitary
state
through
the
thin
,
persistent
rain
,
stung
into
alertness
by
the
cool
moisture
perpetually
reborn
on
his
cheek
.
Somewhere
in
his
mind
a
conversation
began
,
rather
resumed
its
place
in
his
attention
.
It
was
composed
not
of
two
voices
,
but
of
one
,
which
acted
alike
as
questioner
and
answerer
:
Question
.
--
Well
--
what
's
the
situation
?
Answer
.
--
That
I
have
about
twenty-four
dollars
to
my
name
.
Q.
--
You
have
the
Lake
Geneva
estate
.
A.
--
But
I
intend
to
keep
it
.
Q.
--
Can
you
live
?
