"Oh, now that's too bad," he expostulated clumsily. "Why, look here,
Young Lady, I didn't mean you to take it so hard."

When she had recovered herself he told her much of the story. And
the thing which revealed him--glorified him--was less the grief he
gave to it than the way he saw it. "It's the cursed unfairness of
it," he concluded. "When you consider it's all because she did those
things--when you think of her bein' bound to 'em for life just
because she was _too faithful doin' 'em_--when you think that
now--when I could give her everything these women have got!--she's
got to go right on worrying about baking the bread and washing the
dishes--did it for me when I was poor--and now with me rich she can't
get _out_ of it--and I _can't reach_ her--oh, it's _rotten!_ I
tell you it's _rotten!_ Sometimes I can just hear my money _laugh_
at me! Sometimes I get to going round and round in a circle about it
till it seems I'm going crazy myself."

"I think you are a--a noble man," choked Virginia.

That disconcerted him. "Oh Lord--don't think that. No, Young Lady,
don't try to make any plaster saint out of _me_. My life goes
on. I've got to eat, drink and be merry. I'm built that way. But
just the same my heart on the inside's pretty sore, Young Lady. I
want to tell you that the whole inside of my heart is _sore as a
boil_!"

They were returning for the hats. Suddenly Virginia stopped, and it
was a soft-eyed and gentle Virginia who turned to him after the
pause. "There are lovely things to be bought in Paris for women who