Summary

Portrait of Edith Wharton Edith Wharton The Custom of the Country — Chapter XVIII (1913)

Ralph had never seen his way clearly in that dim underworld of affairs where men of the Moffatt and Driscoll type moved like shadowy destructive monsters beneath the darting small fry of the surface. He knew that "business" has created its own special morality; and his musings on man's relation to his self imposed laws had shown him how little human conduct is generally troubled about its own sanctions. He had a vivid sense of the things a man of his kind didn't do
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Portrait of Edith Wharton Edith Wharton The Custom of the Country — Chapter XVIII (1913)

He rose from his chair and wandered upstairs to Undine.
That was the Wall Street code: it all "boiled down" to the personal obligation, to the salt eaten in the enemy's tent. Ralph's fancy wandered off on a long trail of speculation from which he was pulled back with a jerk by the need of immediate action. Moffatt's "deal" could not wait: quick decisions were essential to effective action, and brooding over ethical shades of difference might work more ill than good in a world committed to swift adjustments.
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Portrait of Edith Wharton Edith Wharton The Custom of the Country — Chapter XVIII (1913)

He strikes me as the kind of man who develops slowly, needs a big field, and perhaps makes some big mistakes, but gets where he wants to in the end. Jove, I wish I could put him in a book! There's something epic about him--a kind of epic effrontery."
Undine's pulses beat faster as she listened. Was it not what Moffatt had always said of himself--that all he needed was time and elbow-room? How odd that Ralph, who seemed so dreamy and unobservant, should instantly have reached the same conclusion!
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