“I only speak at all because I love you. Your common-sense should tell you that I speak with reluctance. But now that I have spoken, let me beg of you for your father's sake, for your dead mother's sake, for my sake—I'm your one disinterested friend and you know that my love is real—for the sake of your own soul's salvation in this world and the next—don't marry that brute! Commit suicide if you will—jump off the bridge—take poison, cut your throat, blow your brains out—but, oh dear God, not this!”
“And why, may I ask?” was the cold question.
“He's in no way your equal in culture, in character, in any of the essentials on which the companionship of marriage must be based——”
“He's a diamond in the rough,” Mary staunchly asserted.
“He's in the rough, all right! The only diamond about him is the one in his red scarf—`Take it from me, Kiddo! Take it from me!'”
Her last sentence was a quotation from Jim, her imitation of his slang so perfect Mary's cheeks flamed anew with anger.
“I'll teach him to use good English—never fear. In a month he'll forget his slang and his red scarf.”
“You mean that in a month you'll forget to use good English and his style of dress will be yours. Oh, honey, can't you see that such a man will only drag you down, down to his level? Can it be possible that you—that you really love him?”
“I adore him and I'm proud of his love!”
“Now listen! You believe in an indissoluble marriage, don't you?”