"Aye, but he didn't rithely knaw you, and he didn't rithely knaw me eether." He caught at the straw. "Then you do loov me?" She shook her head, and the tears from her long lashes starred her cheek. "Nay, Joe: Ern's my man--always was and always will be." He stood before her, firm on his feet, and solid as a rock, his fists clenched, his eyes on her, brilliant, dark, and kindly. She felt the thrill of him, his solidity, his sincerity, above all his strength, and thrilled to him again. "A'm the mon for thee," he said. She did not answer. In her ears was the roar of cataracts. "Thoo dursena say me nay." The words came from far off, from another world. Wavering like a flame in the wind, she heard but could make no reply. "Thoo canna." Then a voice spoke through her, a voice that was not hers, coming from far away over waste seas, a voice she had never heard before and did not recognise. "I can--Lord Jesus helpin me." At that the mists began to float away. She saw more clearly now. The worst perhaps was over. "You want a mon with a purpose in his life." Ah, how well he knew her! "A mon who knows what he wants to do and means to do it.--And you must have it or dee. The bairns arena enough for a woman like you." He was putting forth the whole of his huge strength to overwhelm her: she was aware of it and of her own weakness. "A've got a purpose. You can help me fulfill it--none else, only you. Time was A thought A could go on alone. You learnt me better. A canna. God didna make mon that way--not _this_ mon any gate. Mon needs Woman for his work. A need you." Quietly she was gathering her forces. "Ern's my man, Joe," she repeated. "I need him; and none other." Baffled for the moment, her assailant paused in his assault. "And has Ern got a purpose in his life?" "He has now." "What's that then?" "What you said at the Citadel that Sunday--the war, and what it stands for." "The war won't last for ever. What when that's over?" "He'll come back a made man." He regarded her with a kind of sardonic pity. "He'll never coom back--never." She lifted her eyes to his, steadfast and tender. "Hap he'll not, Joe. If so be he doosn't, I shan't grudge him. A soldier in a soldier's grave. Liefer that than he should linger here now. He's such a battler, Ern is. That's why I love him." He took the blows she dealt him, unflinching. "You don't loov, Ern." "I'm learning to." His lips curled in scorn. "You don't know what loov is. See here!--This is loov." He tapped his outspread palm, as often when lecturing.