'We wont——'
'You must listen! Can't you see the dread she lives under—the fear that you'll forget yourself and people will know! And can't you see what it drives—him—to? I heard him talk when he was telling his real thoughts. I know.'
'Oh, you do!'
'Yes, I know. And I know this town. They're very conservative. They watch new people. They're watching you. Like cats. And they'll gossip. I know that too. I've suffered from it. Things that aren't so. But what do they care? They'd spoil your whole life—like that!—and go to the Country Club early to get the best dances. Oh, I know, I tell you. You've got to be careful. It isn't what I say, but you've got to! Or they'll find out, and they won't stop till they've hounded you out of town, and driven him to—this—for good, and broken her—your niece's—heart.'
He stopped, out of breath.
The fire that had flamed from his eyes died down, leaving them like gray ashes. Confusion smote him. He shifted his feet; turned his hat round and round between his hands. What—what—had he been saying!
Then he heard her voice, saying only this:—
'In a way—in a way—you have a right.... God knows it won't.... So much at stake.... Perhaps it had to be said.'
He felt that he had better retreat. Emotions were rising, and he was gulping them down. He knew now that he couldn't speak again; not a word.
She stood aside.