“I've been afraid you looked on me as being an old fogy!”
“I should say not,” indignantly. “Why should you ever think that?”
“Well, there were so many young fellows hanging about.”
“Who?”
“Oh, Keith, and Hawley, and that bunch of officers from the fort; you never had any time to give me.”
She laughed again, her fingers tightening in their clasp on his hand.
“Why, how foolish; Hawley is older than you are, and I was only playing with Keith. Surely you must know that now. And as to the officers, they were just fun. You see, in my profession, one has to be awfully nice to everybody.”
“But didn't you really care for Hawley?” he insisted, bluntly probing for facts.
“He—he interested me,” admitted the girl, hesitatingly, her eyes darkening with sudden anger. “He lied and I believed him—I would have believed any one who came with such a story. Oh, Dr. Fairbain,” and she clung to him now eagerly, “you cannot realize how hungry I have been for what he brought me. I wanted so to know the truth of my birth. Oh, I hated this life!” She flung her disengaged hand into the air, with a gesture expressive of disgust. “I was crazy to get away from it. That was what made the man look good to me—he—he promised so much. You will believe me, won't you? Oh, you must; I am going to make you. I am a singer in music halls; I was brought up to that life from a little girl, and of course, I know what you Western men think of us as a class. Hawley showed it in his whole manner toward me, and I resented it; just for that, deep down in my heart, I hated him. I know it now, now that I really understand his purpose; but some way, when I was with him he seemed to fascinate me, to make me do just as he willed. But you have never been that way; you—you have acted as though I was somebody—somebody nice, and not just a music-hall singer. Perhaps it's just your way, and maybe, deep down you don't think I'm any better than the others do, but—but I want you to think I am, and I am going to tell you the truth, and you must believe me—I am a good girl.”
“Great God! of course you are,” he blurted out. “Don't you suppose I know? That isn't what has been bothering me, lassie. Why, I'd 'a' fought any buck who'd 'a' sneered at you. What I wanted to know was, whether or not you really cared for any of those duffers. Can you tell me that, Christie?”