I RESERVED AN UGLY JEALOUSY for friends and acquaintances who came from rich families and never worried about their financial fate, for whom money was ultimately symbolic: They had careers and were glad to get paid, but what they were really living off was a pond of money that had been filling up for decades, in some cases generations. Their jobs were to some extent a matter of principle—one has to do something. Some of my female friends of this variety felt compelled to do something only until they had children. (“That is doing something!” Yes, of course it is. But it’s something that a
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