“Such madness.”
“Perhaps love is madness—the madness that makes life worth the candle. I've never lived before the past week.”
“And you, the dainty, cultured, pious little saint, will marry this—this——”
“Say it! I want you to be frank——”
“Perfectly frank?”
“Absolutely.”
“This coarse, ugly, illiterate brute——”
“Jane Anderson, how dare you!” Mary sprang to her feet, livid with rage.
“I asked if I might be frank. Shall I lie to you? Or shall I tell you what I think?”
“Say what you please; it doesn't matter,” Mary interrupted angrily.