"I know you have, but tonight I'm going to talk sense to you if I never do it again."
She held out a hand in protest.
"Jimmie—I—"
"Yes, I am," he interrupted. "I hate to see you going on like this. You've been away from Stafford for less than three months and, on the level, you look five years older. Why don't you go back to him?"
"I've told you why—it's a matter of principle. You wouldn't have me give up my principles, would you?"
He shrugged his shoulders as he replied dryly:
"I don't know about yours, but I can tell you this about mine—if hanging on to 'em meant hard work, tired bones and an empty pocket while giving 'em up meant a fine house, a bully time and all the money I could spend, then I'd kiss my principles good-bye and pass 'em up without a quiver! That's common sense."
She turned her head away.
"We don't see things the same way," she said quietly.
He rose from the chair and began to pace the floor in silence. Then, turning on her suddenly he said: