Not that Dennis wanted her to accept—far from it! They had argued it all out that night, under the willow trees by the river. Her hand in his, the girl had made Tom Dennis face a few hard facts. She was the rare kind who can make a man realize things.
"Tom, dear," she had said gently, "another year will see you firmly established here in Marshville. Until then we can't dare marry; it isn't fair to you! Get clear of financial worries first. Not that I care about the money, Tom, but I do care so much about you; and now you're talking about mortgaging the paper, and it's bearing you down."
"And if I fail?"
"Then come to me in Chicago, and we'll start fresh—together."
"But why go there? Stay here where you can help me most! It's your society stuff that does most good——"
"No, dear, Marshville hates you; you must conquer or be conquered, and you don't know how terribly bitter Marshville can be. It's like any small town, Tom. They're all against you now, and if I stay on the paper, they'll be talking—about us. Besides, I don't like the place. I want to be in Chicago a little while, mistress of myself, enjoying a little bit of real life and real things. I'll come back to you here, or you'll come to me there, Tom, and——"
Now, as he sat in the dingy back room, Tom Dennis thought over these things, and his pride revolted within him. He could not go back to his old job, admitting that he had made a failure of his paper, admitting that he was good for nothing better than a reporter's job. He could not go to Florence Hathaway—a failure! He had tasted of freedom, and now it seemed to him that a reporter's was a dog's life. He would not go back to it. He would not ask her to face it all, even though she might be willing—
"We didn't get a drink for seventeen days,
To me way hay, o-hi-o!
And nobody cared if she hung in stays,
A long time ago!"
Dimly the words penetrated the consciousness of Tom Dennis, roused him slightly. Who was in the outer office? Well, no matter. The bank owned it now—tight-lipped old banker Dribble up the street, who owned everything.
"It wasn't a fair fight, maybe," muttered Tom Dennis, sudden storm in his eyes. "They lied to me right and left. The advertising contracts were faked on me. They tried to stab me in the back whenever they had a chance—and they did it, too! But there's no use sobbing over all that."