“I don't believe Bessy would go and marry a man old enough to be her grandfather,” said the boy, with a burst of piteous challenge. Then suddenly he tossed his cigar into the street and flung up his hands to his head with a despairing gesture. “Oh, my God!” he groaned.
“Be a man,” Anderson said, in a kind voice.
“I am a man, ain't I? What do you suppose I care about it? I don't want to marry and settle down yet, anyway. I like to fool with the girls, but as for anything else— I am a—man. If you think I am broken up over this, if anybody thinks I am— Lord—” The young fellow rose and squared his shoulders. He looked down at Anderson. “There's one thing I want to say,” he added. “I don't want you to think—I don't want to give the impression that she—that she has been flirting, or anything like that. She hasn't. Of course she might have been a little franker, I will admit that, for I have been there a good deal, but I don't suppose she thought it was anything serious, and it wasn't. She was right. But she did not flirt. Those girls are not that sort. Great Scott! I should like to see a man venture on any little familiarities with them—holding hands, or a kiss, or anything. They respect themselves, those girls do. They have been brought up better than the Banbridge girls. Oh no, she hasn't treated me badly or anything, and of course I don't care a damn about her getting married, only I'll be hanged if I like, on general principles, to see a pretty young girl throwing herself away on a man old enough to be her father. It's wrong—it's indecent, you know.” Again the boy's voice seemed bursting with wrath and grief and shame.
Anderson rose, went into the house, and was out again in a few seconds. He had a cigar-box in his hand. “Try one of these,” he said. “It's a brand new to me, and I think it fine. I think you'll agree with me.”
“Thanks,” said Eastman, with a sound in his voice like a heart-broken child's. He almost sobbed, but he took the cigar gratefully. “Well, I must be going,” he said. “Mother 'll wonder where I am. It was too deuced hot to go to bed, so I've been strolling around. But I've got to turn in sometime. These nights are too hot to sleep, anyhow.”
“Yes, they are pretty tough,” said Anderson. “Wish we could have a shower.”
“So do I. Say, this cigar is a dandy.”
“I thought you'd like it. Of course it isn't a cigar that everybody would like. It requires some taste, perhaps a cultivated taste.”
“Yes, that's so,” replied the boy, with a pleased air. “I guess it does. I shouldn't say every man would appreciate this.”
“Have another,” said Anderson, and he pressed a couple into the hot young hand, which was greedily reached out for a little solace for its owner's wounded heart and self-love.