"Claude, if you only knew! If you could only imagine what it is to have nothing at all!—to have to live and fight and scrimp and save!—and no one to help you!—and your brother in jail!—and coming out!—coming out, Claude!—and no one to help him!—and everything on you—!"
"That's got nothing to do with it, Rosie—"
"It has got something to do with it. It's got everything to do with it. If it hadn't, do you think that I'd have said that I'd marry him?"
Claude felt like a man who knows he's been shot, but as yet is unconscious of the wound. He spoke quietly: "I think I wouldn't have said that I'd marry two men at the same time, and play one off against the other."
There was exasperation in her voice as she cried: "But how could I help it, Claude? Can't you see? It wasn't him."
"Oh, I can see that well enough. But do you think it makes it any better?"
"It makes it better if I never would have done it unless I'd been obliged to."
"But you'd have done it—"
"No, Claude, I wouldn't—not when it came to the point."
"But why didn't it come to the point? Since you told him you were willing to marry him, why—?"