Very slowly she set down her cup. Very slowly she rose and went close to him. At the hard, driving note in his voice, at the sharp arraignment of his eyes, resentment brought her head up and her eyes defiant.
“Marshy, men fall easily into the habit of talking to—to some women pretty much as they please. But in the years I’ve known you, you’ve never said a word to me that—that hurt. Don’t do it now—please.”
“Then let him alone. I’ve been through hell this past week thinking of what I let those two young things in for. McConnell tells me the girl’s on the verge of collapse,—can’t eat, can’t sleep, just sits and waits for the boy to come and he stays away. Why, they grew up together, those kids. They were as good as engaged. And now he’s chucked her—for you.”
He reached out, caught her by both shoulders with hands that shook.
“I must have been crazy to take you up that night and promise not to interfere. If you don’t cry quits, here’s where I do! Young Dixon is a damn fine boy—McConnell
says one of the finest—and I’m not going to stand to one side and see you smash his life and break that little girl’s heart. Understand?”
The eyes that traveled up to his were more weary than he had ever seen them.
“What about my life, Marshy? Doesn’t that count—at all? Doesn’t it matter that I’d like a chance? [149] ]That perhaps if I marry Bill Dixon, he’ll never know—and I can forget? Doesn’t it matter that you’d be helping me away from being a has-been—and all that goes with it? Do you ever think of the hours I spend here in the dark—alone, trying not to see what’s going to happen to me when I count even less than I do now? But no, of course not! Only—if it were the other way round, Marshy, and I was a man and he a girl, you wouldn’t see any harm in it—would you? If it were you, Marshy, and a young girl—”
“That’s different!”
“Why is it different—why? It’s a man standing up for a man where he wouldn’t for a woman—that’s the only difference. It isn’t that you’re any better than I am. It’s only that you think all men are.”