Contrary Mary

"Who told you that he broke her heart?"

"You've seen the picture. Could a woman with a face like that do

anything bad enough to wreck a man's life? I can't believe it, Mary.

There are always two sides of a question."

She did not answer at once. Then she said, "How did you know

about--Roger?"

"Delilah told me--he couldn't expect to keep it secret."

"He did not expect it; and he had much to bear."

"Then he has told you, and has pleaded with eloquence? But that

child's face in the picture pleads with me."

It did plead. Remembering it, Mary was assailed by her first doubts.

It was such a child's face, with saint's eyes.

Porter's voice was proceeding. "A man can always make out a case for

himself. And you have only his word for what he did. Oh, I suppose

you'll think I'm all sorts of a cad to talk this way. But I can't see

you drifting, drifting toward a danger which may wreck your life."

"Why should it wreck my life?"

"Because Poole, whatever the merits of the case--doesn't seem to me

strong enough to shape his destiny and yours. Was it strong for him to

let go as he did, just because that woman failed him? Was it strong

for him to hide himself here--like--like a criminal? A strong man

would have faced the world. He would have tried to rise out of his

wreck. His actions all through spell weakness. I could bear your not

marrying me, Mary. But I can't bear to see you marry a man who isn't

worthy of you. To see you unhappy would be torture for me."

In his earnestness he had struck a genuine note, and she recognized it.

"I know," she said, unsteadily. "I believe that you think you are

fighting my battle, instead of your own. But I don't think Roger Poole

would--lie."

"Not consciously. But he'd create the wrong impression--we can never

see our own faults--and he would blame her, of course. But the man who

has made one woman unhappy would make another unhappy, Mary."

Mary was shaken.

"Please don't put it so--inevitably. Roger hasn't any claim on me

whatever."

"Hasn't he? Oh, Mary, hasn't he?"

There was hope in his voice, and she shrank from it.

"No," she said, gently, "he is just--my friend. As yet I can't believe

evil of him. But I don't love him. I don't love anybody--I don't want

any man in my life."