You don't
seem to have any idea what this sort of talk that's going around means
to a man."
Hazel stopped short and faced him. Her heart pounded sickeningly, and
hurt pride and rising anger choked her for an instant. But she managed
to speak calmly, perhaps with added calmness by reason of the struggle
she was compelled to make for self-control.
"If you are going to marry me," she repeated, "you have got a right to
know all there is to know. Have I refused to explain? I haven't had
much chance to explain yet. Have I refused to tell you anything? If
you ever thought of anybody beside yourself, you might be asking
yourself how all this talk would affect a girl like me. And, besides,
I think from your manner that you've already condemned me--for what?
Would any reasonable explanation make an impression on you in your
present frame of mind? I don't want to marry you if you can't trust
me. Why, I couldn't--I _wouldn't_--marry you any time, or any place,
under those conditions, no matter how much I may foolishly care for
you."
"There's just one thing, Hazel," Barrow persisted stubbornly. "There
must have been something between you and Bush. He sent flowers to you,
and I myself saw when he was hurt he sent his carriage to bring you to
his house.
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