“No. She was, and is, in so different a class, that I never”—
“You should not allow that to be a bar! Any woman”—
“But even more, there are other claims upon me, which make marriage out of the question.”
“And this is why you have resigned reputation for money-making? Is there no escape? Oh, it seems too cruel to be!”
“You draw it worse than it is, Miss Walton, forgetting that I told you of my happiness in loving.”
“You make me proud to feel that we are friends, Dr. Hartzmann,” you said gently. “I hope she is worthy of such a love?”
I merely nodded; and after a slight pause you remarked, “Now it is only fair to give you a turn.”
I had been pondering, after my first impulsive assent, over my right to win your confidence, with the one inevitable conclusion that was so clear, and I answered, “I have no questions to ask, Miss Walton.”
“Then I can ask no more, of course,” you replied quietly, and at once turned the conversation into less personal subjects, until the time came for our return to My Fancy.
When we parted in the upper hall, that evening, you said to me, “I always value your opinion, and it usually influences me. Do you, as your speech to-night implied, think it right to go on loving baseness?”