"To whom?" May asked ironically. "To God? I should like to see Van Harrington's God! He must be different from the One I have prayed to all these years."
"Maybe he has more charity, May!"
"Are you asking for charity—my charity as well as God's?" she blazed.
"Well, let that go! I shall answer to the people now."
"Yes! And God help this country, now that men like you have taken to buying seats there at Washington!"
We said nothing for a while after this, and then I rose to go.
"We don't get anywhere this way, May. I came here wanting to be friends with you and Will—wanting to help my brother. You needn't take my money if you think it's tainted. But can't you feel friendly? You are throwing me off a second time when I come to you asking for your love."
She flushed at the meaning under my words, and replied in a lower voice:—
"It would do no good, Van. You are feeling humble just now, and remorseful, and full of old memories. But you don't want my love now, in real truth, more than you did before." Her face crimsoned slowly. "If you had wanted it then, you would have stayed and earned it."