Her arms had gone up instinctively but they dropped again without touching him. She held away, not looking at him.
“No, Bill,—it can’t be.”
“Naomi!”
“No.”
“You think that what he said makes any difference? I tell you, it doesn’t. I don’t care! I’d marry you—”
“It’s not that. It’s just—I couldn’t make you happy, boy.”
“Yes, you could. You’re the only woman—”
“No—I couldn’t. Why, you don’t love me. You love the thing I represent—the thing that represents me—Broadway. Take me away from it and what would I be? A faded woman, Bill, a woman who would only [160] ]make you hate her because she’s so different from what you thought. And I’d rather never have you than to see you in a short time—oh, it wouldn’t take long!—disgusted with me.”
“You don’t love me—that’s it!” he flamed.
“If I didn’t love you I’d marry you. Sounds queer, that, doesn’t it?”