" He glared at the
ground. "Yes, if I was straight she'd look at me, too. She wouldn't
look the other way every time I come around. Oh, you don't know how it
feels! She'd go out walking with me instead of that Virginian smart
aleck who killed his grandpa. But just see how it is, though! She
won't look at me! She won't even look at me!"
A whole world of bitterness dwelt in that cry of despair.
"If I was straight like you, she'd--she might love me. She might marry
me. Just think of it, Dick! I might get her." With the inconsistency
of the selfishly irrational he added: "I've got plenty of money. I
could give her fine clothes and--But, oh, what's the use? She hates to
look at me. I--I hurt her eyes--yes, I hurt her eyes!"
It was pitiful. Greed and avarice had made a hateful little monster of
him, and yet a heart of stone would have been touched by the misery in
his eyes, the anguish on his lips. Dick murmured helplessly:
"May--maybe you can get her anyhow, Ernie. Maybe you can. Maybe--
maybe."
But Ernie's emotion underwent a sudden change. Spitefulness leaped
into his eyes; the wail of misery left his voice and in its place came
shrill blasphemy.
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