"But it's no way for you to live, girl," exclaimed the Scout. "He's sure to get caught. It's only a question of time—and not so very long a time at that, and then you'll be branded as his sweetheart."
"It's a lie! I'm no one's sweetheart!"
"But people won't believe that—and then what will you do?"
"Oh, don't! What right have you to talk to me like this, anyway?" demanded Rose.
"The right my love for you gives me."
"How dare you talk to me of love?"
"Because I mean it. You're too fine a girl to have your life blasted by Red Rogers. I want to save you."
There was that in the passionate tone in which the young Scout spoke, and in the expression upon his handsome face that drew Rose to him, irresistibly—and then the thought of taking her place among the good women of the world—a thought that always strikes hardest the woman who sees the opportunity being closed to her, flashed to her mind.
"How can you help me?" she asked, in a voice scarcely more than a whisper.
"I can make you my wife. Then I shall have the right to protect you. Oh, Rose, think what joy it would be. Don't say we haven't known each other long enough. Think what we've been through."