"
"Bosh," laughed Ray. "He can publish a thousand and no one would believe
them of you."
"He knows that. But he knows, too, that no matter how untrue, it would
connect her name with a subject shameful to the purest woman that ever
lived. He knows that the scavengers of gossip will repeat it, and gloat
over it. That the filthy society papers will harp on it for years. That
in the heat of a political contest, the partisans will be only too glad
to believe it and repeat it. That no criminal prosecution, no court
vindication, will ever quite kill the story as regards her. And so he
hopes that, rather than entail this on a woman whom I love, and on her
husband and family, I will refuse a nomination. I know of such a case in
Massachusetts, where, rather than expose a woman to such a danger, the
man withdrew. What should I do?"
"Do? Fight him. Tell him to do his worst."
Peter put his hand on Ray's shoulder.
"Even if--if--it is one dear to us both?"
"Peter!"
"Yes. Do you remember your being called home in our Spanish trip,
unexpectedly? You left me to bring Miss De Voe, and--Well.
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