"It will ruin me. It
will ruin my career. And all because in a moment of fearful
temptation I yielded, God help me."
"God help you!" The angry scorn in Miller's voice burned like
vitriol. "God help you! you selfish villain and coward! You
pursued her! You hounded her. You made your own temptation--and
hers. And afterward you left her to bear a lifetime of shame--to
kill herself if she couldn't stand it. When I think of you, smug
liar and hell hound, I know that killing isn't good enough for
you."
"Steady, old man," counseled Jeff.
Miller began to tremble violently. Tears gathered in his eyes and
coursed down his fat cheeks. "And I can't stamp him out. I can't
expose him without hurting her worse. I've got to stand it without
touching him."
Faintly Jeff smiled. James did not look quite untouched. He was a
much battered statue of virtue, his large dignity for once torn to
shreds.
Miller flung himself down heavily in a chair and buried his face
in his hands. James began to talk, and as he talked his fluency
came back to him.
"It's the only stain on my life record . . . the only one. My life
has been an open book but for that. I was only a boy--and I made a
slip.
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