"Don't you know I have no sense of humor? Would I do the things I
do and carry them through if I had?"
In spite of herself she admired this penetration of self-analysis.
In spite of herself the personality beneath his surface, the
personality that had a certain uncanny charm for her, was subtly
reasserting its inexplicable fascination.
"Yes, we've got to marry," proceeded he. "I have to marry you
because I can't afford to let you say you jilted me. That would
make me the laughing-stock of my State; and I can't afford to tell
the truth that I jilted you because the people would despise me as
no gentleman. And, while I don't in the least mind being despised
as no gentleman by fashionable noddle-heads or by those I trample
on to rise, I do mind it when it would ruin me with the people."
Her eyes gleamed. So! She had him at her mercy!
"Not so fast, young lady," continued he in answer to that gleam.
"It is equally true that you've got to marry me."
"But I shall not!" she cried. "Besides, it isn't true."
"It IS true," replied he. "You may refuse to marry me, just as a
man may refuse to run when the dynamite blast is going off. Yes,
you can refuse, but--you'd not be your grandmother's granddaughter
if you did.
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