"
"Poor thing."
He glanced at her in surprise. "Then you defend her?"
"Oh, no--no. But think of having to marry to get the--the fleshpots,
and to miss all of the real meanings. I talked to Hilda for a long
time, and somehow before she left she made me feel sorry. She wants so
much that she will never have. And she will grow hard and bitter
because life isn't giving her all that she demands."
"Did she ask you to plead her cause?"
"Yes," frankly. "She feels that you ought to give her another chance."
He ran his fingers through his crinkled hair. "I don't want her. I'm
afraid of her."
"Afraid?"
"She sees the worst that is in me, and brings it to the surface. And
when I protest, she laughs and insists that I don't know myself. That
I am a sort of Dr. Jekyll, with the Mr. Hyde part of me asleep--"
"And you let her scare you like that?"
He nodded. "Every man has a weak spot, and mine is wanting the world
to think well of me."
"Think well of yourself. What would Jean say if she heard you talking
like this?"
"Jean?" she was startled by the breaking up of his face into deep lines
of trouble.
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