"You'll keep your distance before that," he said slowly.
"You're mistaken. Many people are afraid of you, but I never was and never could be. You're no good; you never were. If you didn't lug my name about with you I'd let you go to hell. You'll go there anyway, but you'll go married first."
"I expect to."
"Married to Mary Ledwith," she said looking at him.
He picked up a cigar, examined it, yawned, then glanced at her:
"As I had—recently—occasion to tell Chester Ledwith, I'll marry whom I please. Now suppose you clear out."
"Are you dining with us?"
"No."
"What time may we expect you to-morrow?"
"At no time."