Molly was wrought up to the point of invention, perhaps because she was madly jealous.
“Men generally keep that sort of a woman to themselves,” she explained. “A home is usually sacred to the ordinary man.” 198
Theodore was stung to silence. It was a bitter fling, and his thoughts worked rapidly. It took a long moment for his tall figure to get up from the chair.
“Just what do you mean?” he demanded, thrusting his hands into his pockets.
“I don’t believe I need tell you any more,” she answered.
Theodore stood in the middle of the room as if turned to stone.
“I’m dense, I guess,” he admitted huskily.
Angered beyond reason or self-control, Molly pushed the letter away impatiently and stood up.
“Well, if you’re so terribly dense, then listen. No man is ever interested in a girl like that unless she is something more to him than a mere––” She broke off, because a dark red flush was spreading in hot waves over the man’s face. But bravely she proceeded, “Of course you wouldn’t insult your family and your friends by marrying her. Then what conclusion do you want them to draw?”
Theodore looked at her as if she’d suddenly lost her senses. She had cast an aspersion upon the best little soul in God’s created world.