“It is only the truth. It sounded fearfully hard to me when you told me that woman was your friend––that you knew her before you knew me and would know her after I was dead; that she was as good as I, and that if I didn’t entertain her you would. But it was the truth; you told me the truth, and it was better that you told it––as it is better now that I tell it to you.”
“I was drunk. I didn’t tell you the truth. A man is a pretty tough animal sometimes, but you 254 are a woman and a pure one, and I care more for you than for all the other women in the world, and it is not your nature to be unforgiving.”
“It is to be honest.”
He looked suddenly up at her and spoke sharply: “Marion, I know why you won’t go.”
“I have honestly told you.”
“No; you have not honestly told me. The real reason is Gordon Smith.”
“If he were I should not hesitate to tell you, Murray, but he is not,” she said coldly.
Sinclair spoke harshly: “Do you think you can fool me? Don’t you suppose I know he spends his time loafing around your shop?”
Marion flushed indignantly. “It is not true!”
“Don’t you suppose I know he writes letters back to Wisconsin to your folks?”