Her smoldering anger broke into a flame. "Good of you to compare me with her! That's the last straw!"
"I'm not comparing you. I'm merely saying that you can't judge her.
How could you, when your life has been so different?"
"Thank Heaven for that."
"If you'd let me bring her here to see you—"
"No, thanks."
"You're unjust."
"You think so?"
"And unkind. That's not like the little friend I've come to—like so much."
"You're kind enough for two, Mr. Lindsay. She really doesn't need another friend so long as she has you," she retorted with a flash of contemptuous eyes. "In New York we're not used to being so kind to people of her sort."
Clay lifted a hand. "Stop right there, Miss Beatrice. You don't want to say anything you'll be sorry for."