When Society Drifts Away — The House of Mirth

Winter returns to Fifth Avenue, and Lily's world thins with the leaves. The Horse Show briefly revives the old spectacle of wealth on parade, filling theatres and restaurants with the same costly display that circles the ring. Mrs. Gormer still shows herself and her horses, and Lily is given a place in the most conspicuous box. That lingering intimacy only makes the change clearer. Mattie is forming a social standard out of her old chaos, and Lily is the first sacrifice to it. Once the Gormers are established in town, fashionable life will help Mattie detach. Lily has failed to make herself indispensable. The influence that thwarted her is simply money: Bertha Dorset's social credit rests on an impregnable bank-account. Lily knows Rosedale did not overstate the difficulty or the completeness of the vindication he offered. She rejected his suggestion with a flash of scorn, but she cannot breathe long on the heights. Society does not turn away. It drifts by, preoccupied and inattentive, and lets her feel how completely she has been the creature of its favour.

On a hard winter afternoon she climbs Gerty Farish's steep stairs. A middle-aged woman in limp black is coming down: Jane Silverton, who wants work because Ned's debts have swallowed everything. The Silverton sisters hope to support themselves by reading aloud and painting apple-blossoms on blotting-paper. Lily hears her own future in that sentence and starts up so violently she nearly wrecks Gerty's tea-table. She has not come to listen to other people's woes, yet the topic will not leave her. She asks for stronger tea to keep the afternoon drowsiness off, because sleepless nights already leave new lines in her face. When Gerty asks what she dreads, Lily names it without performance. Poverty, for one, and she does not know any that is more dreadful. Living with the rich is a privilege with a tax: tips, cards, the right dress for every occasion, and the constant labour of being fresh and exquisite and amusing. She is sick to death of it, and the thought of giving it up nearly kills her.

She is nearly at the end of her tether. She sees herself slinking to employment agencies like poor Miss Silverton, and she has less idea how to earn a dollar than any of the thousands already trying. She has an appointment with Carry Fisher, who promises to find someone who wants a social secretary. She does not tell Gerty the weekly claims that cannot be deferred, or that shrinking to a boarding-house would only postpone the problem. Carry starts a voyage of discovery and summons Lily with the news that she has found something. Two weeks later Gerty, unable to help in the way Lily will accept, opens the case to Lawrence Selden. He has not seen Lily since Europe. He has wanted to, but she seemed absorbed by the Gormers. Gerty tells him that intimacy is ending, that Judy Trenor and Lily's own family have deserted her because Bertha has said horrible things, and that Mrs. Peniston cut her off with a small legacy.

Selden admits she has been abominably treated, then says that is the precise thing a man who wants to show sympathy cannot say to her. Gerty still asks him to reach out a hand. Lily once told her he had been a help, and she needs help now as never before. He agrees to do what she wishes and not hold her responsible for his failure. His avoidance has not been as unintentional as he let Gerty think. The Gormer intimacy chilled him; it was simpler to judge Lily by her habitual conduct. Gerty's words take that ease away. He turns toward Lily's hotel, hears she has moved, and waits while the clerk searches for an address. When the slip of paper reads Care of Mrs. Norma Hatch, Emporium Hotel, his apprehension becomes an incredulous stare. He tears the paper in two and turns to walk quickly homeward.