"I'm not; but I can't stand by and see a lovely and innocent woman injured."
"I presume I'm not to defend my friend?" she asked, her small foot tapping the tiled floor in anger.
"You would not wish to do so if you knew his true character."
"I do not wish to prolong this interview, Mr. Stanley. I must remind you that there are limits even to the rights of friendship, and you have overstepped them."
"I fear I've forgotten myself, that I've been too vehement. I humbly beg your pardon. I won't trespass again, believe me. I only spoke for your good—indeed, I wanted to have a serious talk with you about yourself; but the spirit in which you receive my suggestions makes it impossible."
"You mustn't say that," she replied, more quietly than she had hitherto spoken. "But you can surely understand that my friendship would be of little use to any man if I stood quietly by and let him be denounced without a word of resentment on my part. Are there other of my friends of whom you do not approve?"
"It's partly that, but rather the—you'll pardon me—the things that are said about you, Belle. People—my friends—men as well as women—have said things in my presence—that I did not like to hear. Things that show how easy it is for a careless, easy-going nature like yours to be misinterpreted; in short——"
"In short, they told you I was fast, I suppose, a sordid, scheming, money-making wretch. Is that correct?"
"Really, Belle!"
"Is that correct? Answer me."