“What earthly difference?”
“True, none at all. As you say, I have stolen his boat, stolen his wine, stolen his fried potatoes, stolen his waistcoats. But, bear witness, I drew the line at his neckties. Nowhere else, however!” And as I added this I looked at her narrowly.
“Will you put us ashore?” she asked, her color rising.
“No.”
“We’re coming to a town.”
“Baton Rouge. The capital of Louisiana. A quaint and delightful city of some sixty thousand inhabitants. The surrounding country is largely devoted to the sugar industry. But we do not stop. Tell me, are you engaged?”
But, suddenly, I saw her face, and on it was something of outraged dignity. I bent toward her eagerly. “Forgive me! I never wanted to give you pain, Helena. Forget my improper question.”
“Indeed!”
“I’ve been fair with you. And that’s hard for a man. Always, always,—let me tell you something women don’t understand—there’s the fight in a man’s soul to be both a gentleman and a brute, because a woman won’t love him till he’s a brute, and he hates himself when he isn’t a gentleman. It’s hard, sometimes, to be both. But I tried. I’ve been a gentleman—was once, at least. I told you the truth. When they investigated my father, and found that, acting under the standard of his day, he hadn’t run plumb with the standards of to-day, I came and told you of it. I released you then, although you never had promised me, because I knew you mightn’t want an alliance with—well, with a front page family, you know. It blew over, yes; but I was fair with you. You knew I had lost my money, and then you——”
“I remained ‘released’.”