"Please!" she said. "Fred and I were engaged. I broke it last night. I broke it because—you know why."
Scarborough flushed crimson.
"Oh," he said. "I didn't know he was engaged."
"I know you, Hampden Scarborough," Olivia continued. "I've understood why you've been degrading yourself. And I haven't blamed you—though I've wondered at your lack of manhood."
"You are imposing on my courtesy," he said haughtily.
"I can't help it. You and I must talk this thing to the end. You're robbing me of the man I love. Worse than that, you're destroying him, dragging him down to a level at which HE may stay, while YOU are sure to rise again. You've got your living to make—I don't agree with those who think you'll become a professional gambler. But he his father's rich and indulgent, and—God only knows how low he'll sink if you keep on pushing him."
"You are excited, hysterical. You misjudge him, believe me," said Scarborough, gently.
"No—I know he's not depraved—yet. Do you think I could care for him if he were?"
"I hope so. That's when he'd need it most."
Olivia grew red. "Well, perhaps I should. I'm a fool, like all women. But I ask you to let him alone, to give his better self a chance."