"I've never wondered much about the young man who went away sad because
he had great possessions," he said gently. "But I've wondered a lot what
he did--afterwards. The book doesn't tell us that."

"I don't understand."

"It isn't being rich that counts, Miss Wynrod," he said with a
passionate earnestness that she seldom saw in him, "it's what you do
with your riches. That's the question you've got to ask yourself."

"Don't most rich people do that?" she asked.

"Some--yes. Most? Umm--I'm inclined to think--not."

"You think even those that do, get the wrong answer, don't you?"

"Mostly--yes."

His assurance vaguely irritated her. She put her question rather
sharply.

"Mr. Good, if you were wealthy--oh, very wealthy--what would you do?"

"You think I've never thought of that?" he asked quizzically.

"Have you?"

"Indeed, yes. All my life, I guess. But am I suddenly made rich--or born
with it?"

"Suddenly? No. You've had it always--and your father had it before you."

"Then I'd build fine homes and have many servants. I'd have automobiles
and yachts and pictures and first editions. I'd contribute to political
campaign funds, and give scholarships to my college, and build libraries
and hospitals, and install rest rooms and gymnasiums and summer camps in
my stores and factories. I'd be generous and upright, and when I died I
would be very much respected and not a little loved."

There was an indefinable feeling of banter in his tone, which she found
hard to explain. But she went on, hoping that he would explain it
himself.

"And if it came to you suddenly?"

"I wouldn't give a cent to charity nor to hospitals nor libraries. And
I'd lose all my friends, and probably be shot like a mad dog."

She was stunned with the vehemence of his curious words. But before she
could speak he added suddenly, even more fervently.

"I'd live and die hated by those closest to me. But I'd buy the greatest
jewel in the world, and I'd leave it to those who wouldn't possibly
appreciate it."

"And what is that?" she asked in amazement.

"The truth," he said simply.

For a little while he sat smoking moodily, gazing off into space, busy
with his dream. She sensed that she had struck the major chord in his
heart, and she was silent too, out of a curious feeling of awe, as if
she were in some innermost sanctuary. It was a moment vibrant with
emotion. Then, with a rush, but in a tone that was very firm and
business-like,