A Point of Ethics
She raised her voice a little, above the seductive swing of the music.
"Surely you don t misunderstand me—all of you," she urged. "I don't want to seem 'smug' and self-satisfied, as Ruth puts it. No one is fonder of Miss Bertram than I. But I'm alone here in New York, and I have nothing in the world except my health, my very ordinary journalistic ability, and my reputation as a 'hard-working and respectable lady,' to quote my appreciative janitor. Can I afford to jeopardize the most precious of these by being the acknowledged friend of a woman whose reputation is, as a matter of fact, the subject of unpleasant talk? My mother sits in our little home out West reading the newspaper clippings about my work and pasting them in a scrapbook. Every word she reads or hears about me is precious gold to her. Can I run the risk of having my name and hers carelessly linked in newspaper gossip with another name that is mentioned with sneers? This is n't mere fancy. It has been done already—and in connection with you, Ruth," she broke in suddenly, wheeling about and facing her incredulous
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