Rowland tried, mentally, to summon
presumption to his aid; but whether it came or not, it found conscience
there before it. Conscience had only three words, but they were cogent.
"For her sake--for her sake," it dumbly murmured, and Rowland resumed
his argument. "I don't know what I would n't do," he said, "rather than
that Miss Garland should suffer."
"There is one thing to be said," Roderick answered reflectively. "She is
very strong."
"Well, then, if she 's strong, believe that with a longer chance, a
better chance, she will still regain your affection."
"Do you know what you ask?" cried Roderick. "Make love to a girl I
hate?"
"You hate?"
"As her lover, I should hate her!"
"Listen to me!" said Rowland with vehemence.
"No, listen you to me! Do you really urge my marrying a woman who would
bore me to death? I would let her know it in very good season, and then
where would she be?"
Rowland walked the length of the room a couple of times and then stopped
suddenly. "Go your way, then! Say all this to her, not to me!"
"To her? I am afraid of her; I want you to help me.
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