I should hate it. And not you. You
are much too virtuous to have any use for me."
"Oh, Guy," she said, "Is it never worth while to play the game?"
His hand tightened upon hers. "Look here!" he said suddenly.
"Suppose I did as you wish--suppose I did pull up--play the game,
as you call it? Suppose I clawed and grabbed for success Like the
rest of the world--and got it. Would you care?"
"I wasn't talking of success," she said. "That's no answer." He
swung her hand to and fro with vehement impatience. "Suppose you
were free--yes, you've got to suppose it just for a moment--suppose
you were free--and suppose I came to you with both hands full, and
offered you myself and all I possessed--would you send me empty
away? Would you? Would you?"
He spoke with a fevered insistence. His eyes were alight and
eager. Just so had he spoken in the long ago when she had given
him her girlish heart in full and happy surrender.
There was no surrender in her attitude now, but yet she could not,
she could not, relentlessly send him from her. He appealed so
strongly, with so intense an earnestness.
"I can't imagine these things, Guy," she said at last. "I only ask
you--implore you--to do your best to keep straight. It is worth
while, believe me. You will find that it is worth while."
"It might be--with you to make it so," he said.
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