"And you want to marry me, after all you know about me?" she asked solemnly. It was the one thing she did not like. Why was it impossible for her to go her way, free and irresponsible, as men went? Why was it that all sought this absolute control over her liberty? And yet, she was genuinely touched that Blainey, believing what he must, should have made the offer.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"My old dad ran a milk-wagon over in Brooklyn," he said. "I've pulled myself up by my boot-straps, and pretty much of everything has stuck to them on the way. I know what life is, kid. I stopped judging long ago! Leave that to a bunch of snobs in Fifth Avenue churches. Whatever you've done, you'd look like a white spot against me!"
"Blainey, I'll tell you something!" she said suddenly. "You've got me wrong! I'm as straight as they make 'em!"
"Don't lie, kid! It ain't necessary."
"Look at me! It's God's truth!" she exclaimed vehemently.
"Honest?" he said, opening his eyes.
"Honest!"
"Well, I'll be damned!"
"Blainey, you're an awfully good sort!" she said genuinely.