‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I mean it. I’m as serious as I can be.’ ‘A damned sight too serious for me!’ he grumbled. ‘We must all go together. In three days I can be ready. No, two.’ ‘In that case every one’ll see us. You’m all the other way now.’ ‘I don’t care who sees us now,’ she said passionately. ‘What does it matter? Let it take its chance! It’s nothing to us. I’m so sick of their talk that it means nothing to me.’ She became thoughtful once more. ‘Abner,’ she said suddenly, ‘tell me truly, when did you first want me?’ Again he teased her. ‘What does that matter?’ ‘I want to know,’ she protested. And he told her of the night at Redlake when he had stood burning in the moonlight beneath the jasmine-covered windows of the inn. ‘I knew, I knew!’ she said softly. ‘I couldn’t sleep that night. The time we’ve lost, us two! Oh, how I hate myself! It was nearly the same with me. Just when we’d missed our way and my legs ached so that I felt I couldn’t walk another step. Poor little Morgan, and the bottle of pop you promised him! And then those strange sea-birds crying up in the dark. Do you remember how I turned on you and told you I hated the sight of you? That was when I loved you. Then and ever since.’ ‘We’ve been through something, one time and another,’ he said. She laughed softly. ‘It’s like a long courtship,’ she said. ‘George and I only knew each other six weeks before we were married.’ It amazed her to find that now she could speak of George without discomfort. Her mind ran swiftly over those early days. ‘Abner,’ she said, ‘I feel sorry for George now, don’t you?’ ‘Don’t speak of him!’ said Abner seriously. ‘You’re jealous . . .’ ‘Don’t speak of him. I gave old George my word. I’ve not been a pal to George.’ ‘You’re a funny boy,’ she said, loving him with her eyes. ‘I want to forget old George,’ he said obstinately. ‘Then I won’t speak of him, Abner. What time is it?’ She put her hand into his waistcoat pocket and took out his watch. The sweet familiarity of the action entranced him. His eyes followed her fingers, and the newly conscious turn of her head as she looked at it. ‘Ten o’clock,’ she said. ‘Who’d have thought it?’ She rose, and again she abandoned herself to his arms. Then she left him suddenly and went before him, never looking back. He followed with the little lamp in his hand. At the foot of the stairs he stopped. ‘What’s the matter?’ she whispered, turning. ‘Aren’t you coming?’ ‘There’s a step outside,’ he said. ‘Some one on the garden path.’ ‘Whoever can it be at this time? Take the light to the door and see.’ The darkness of the staircase engulfed her as he opened the kitchen door and peered outside. ‘Who’s that?’ he called. ‘Is that you, Abner?’ a voice replied. ‘Now I thought I see’d a light. I guessed you’d have gone up over by this.’ ‘What do you want, Mr Drew?’