“Samuel, you must not talk like this!” she broke in. “I can't listen to you. It was a misunderstanding, and you must forget it all. You must go away. We must not meet again.”
“Miss Gladys!” he cried in horror.
“Yes,” she exclaimed, “you must go—”
“You are going to turn me off!” he panted. “Oh, how can you say such a thing? Why, think what you have done to me!”
“Samuel,” protested the girl angrily, “this is perfectly preposterous behavior of you! You have no right to go on in this way. You never had any right to—to think such things. How could you so forget your place?”
And he started as if stung with a whip. “My place!” he gasped.
“Yes,” she said.
“I see, I see!” he burst out. “It's my 'place' again. It's the fact that I have no money!”
“Why, Samuel!” she exclaimed. “What a thing to say! It's not that—”
“It's that, and it's nothing but that! It never is anything but that! It's because I am a poor boy, and couldn't help myself! You told me that you loved me, and I believed you. You were so beautiful, and I thought that you must be good! Why, I worshiped the very ground you walked on. I would have done anything in the world for you—I would have died for you! I went about thinking about you all day—I made you into a dream of everything that was good and perfect! And now—now—you say that you were only playing with me! Using me for your selfish pleasure—just as you do all the other poor people!”