“Truly, I’m not jealous. I know you love me and I know that you’re not flirting. But I don’t like to see that woman hang around you because she has absolutely nothing to give you. From your own admission you see her because you feel you have a duty towards her and that is no reason at all. She is well able to look out for herself.”
“So am I, sweetheart.” That was the man in him.
Horatia did not agree.
“Let’s not quarrel about Rose Hubbell, please, darling,” he went on. “I don’t give a copper what becomes of her. But she is an old acquaintance and a perfectly harmless one. If you don’t like her you’ll never have to see her again.”
“And would you go on seeing her?”
“Why, no, darling—not unless I couldn’t help it. I can’t go around the block to avoid her—or cut her on the street.”
The slight impatience in his tone found immediate reflection in Horatia’s answer.
“Don’t be silly, Jim. I’m not unreasonable or going to be unreasonable. But I want to know where you stand with her and then we will drop it.” She was pressing the point now partly because her pride wouldn’t let her admit that she was being unreasonable or foolish and partly from sheer womanly desire to break down the resistance in her lover. And because she felt very near to tears her voice was hard and her figure tightened. Jim took it as a repulse, but he became more serious.
“What is it you want, Horatia?”
“I want you to drop Rose Hubbell. Not go to see her. Tell her if necessary that you are dropping her. It wouldn’t hurt her very much. Of course I don’t mean that you’re not to speak to her, but don’t ask her to dance when you are out places—don’t let her write to you. I want you to promise me.”