"It was your early environment, Hester. I've explained that often enough to them here. I'd bank on you, Hester—swear by you."
She patted him.
"I'm a pretty bad egg, Gerald. According to the standards of a town like this, I'm rotten, and they're about right. For five years, Gerald, I've—"
"The real you is ahead of—and not behind you, Hester."
"How wonderful," she said, "for you to feel that way, but—"
"Hester," he said, more and more the big boy, and his big blond head nearing hers, "I don't care about anything that's past; I only know that, for me, you are the—"
"Gerald," she said, "for God's sake!"
"I'm a two hundred-a-month man now, Hester. I want to build you the prettiest, the whitest little house in this town. Out in the Briarwood section. I'll make them kowtow to you, Hester; I—"
"Why," she said, slowly, and looking at him with a certain sadness, "you couldn't keep me in stockings, Gerald! The aigrettes on this hat cost more than one month of your salary."
"Good God!" he said.