As for Zion, he did nothing to win the friendship of Ivy's friends either, it was perfectly equal to him whether they liked him or not, accepted him or not. They did not matter, only Ivy was.
He showed only indifference and irony towards this group of young people, beautiful and brilliant certainly, but so weak and ordinary, not having even exceeded the quarter of a century and who believed to be able to arouse in him something other than a vague ironic amusement, who believed to be able to dictate to him in one way or another his acts. He would ask nothing of them, do nothing for them. Even before they disappeared from his sight, Zion had already forgotten them.
