THE BETTER SORT
"Absolutely; which is precisely why I've been ashamed. I made for home with the whole thing," she explained, "and there, that night, in the hours till morning, when, turning it over, I saw all it really was, I knew that I couldn't—that I would rather choose that shame, that of not doing for her what I had offered, than the hideous honesty of bringing it out. Because, you see," Maud declared, "it was—well, it was too much."
Bight followed her with a sharpness! "It was so good?"
"Quite beautiful! Awful!"
He wondered. "Really charming?"
"Charming, interesting, horrible. It was true—and it was the whole thing. It was herself and it was him, all of him too. Not a bit made up, but just the poor woman melted and overflowing, yet at the same time raging—like the hot-water tap when it boils. I never saw anything like it; everything, as you guaranteed, came out; it has made me know things. So, to have come down here with it, to have begun to hawk it, either through you, as you kindly proposed, or in my own brazen person, to the highest bidder—well, I felt that I didn't have to, after all, if I didn't want to, and that if it's the only way I can get money I would much rather starve."
"I see." Howard Bight saw all. "And that's why you're ashamed?"
She hesitated—she was both so remiss and so firm. "I knew that by my not coming back to you, you would have guessed, have found me wanting; just, for that matter, as she has found me. And I couldn't explain. I can't—I can't to her. So that," the girl went on, "I shall have done, so far as her attitude to me was to be concerned, something more indelicate, something more indecent, than if I had passed her on. I shall have wormed it all out of her, and then, by not
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