"Faugh!" she said, still looking off.

He felt out for her hand, at the touch of her reddening up again.

"Hester," he said, "you're the most beautiful, the most exciting, the
most maddening, the most--the most everything girl in the world!
You're not going to have an easy time of it, Hester, with your--your
environment and your dangerousness, if you don't settle down--quick,
with some strong fellow to take care of you. A fellow who loves you.
That's me, Hester. I want to make a little home for you and protect you.
I can't promise you the money--right off, but I can promise you the
bigger something from the very start, Hester. Dear?"

She would not let her hand relax to his.

"I hate this town," she said.

"There's Cincinnati. Maybe my friend could find an opening there."

"Faugh!"

"Cincinnati, dear, is a metropolis."

"No, no! You don't understand. I hate littleness. Even little
metropolises. Cheapness. I hate little towns and little spenders
and mercerized stockings and cotton lisle next to my skin, and
machine-stitched nightgowns. Ugh! it scratches!"

"And I--I just love you in those starchy white shirt waists, Hester.
You're beautiful."