"Why didn't you say so to our reporter, then?" cried Hal eagerly. "Let us print a statement from you, from her—"
"In your sheet? If you so much as publish her name again—By Heavens, I wish it were the old days, I'd call you out and kill you."
"Dr. Elliot," said Hal quietly, "did you think I wanted to print that about Esmé?"
"Wanted to? Of course you wanted to. You didn't have to, did you?"
"Yes."
"What compelled you?" demanded the other.
"You won't understand, but I'll tell you. The 'Clarion' compelled me. It was news."
"News! To blackguard a young girl, ignorant of the very thing you've held her up to shame for! The power of the press! A power to smirch the names of decent people. And do you know where my girl is now, on this day when your sheet is smearing her name all over the town?" demanded the physician, his voice shaking with wrath and grief. "Do you know that—you who know everybody's business?"
Chill fear took hold upon Hal. "No," he said.
"In quarantine for typhus. Here! Keep off me!"