The Egyptian would have given all she had in the world to be able to fly from him then, that he might never know her as she was, but it could not be, and so she spoke out remorselessly. If her voice had become hard, it was a new-born scorn of herself that made it so. "You are needlessly alarmed," she said; "I am not at all the kind of person who deserves sympathy or expects it. There is nothing wrong. I am staying with Nanny over-night, and only came to Thrums to amuse myself. I chased your policeman down the Roods with my lantern, and then came here to amuse myself with you. That is all." "It was nothing but a love of mischief that brought you here?" Gavin asked, sternly, after an unpleasant pause. "Nothing," the Egyptian answered, recklessly. "I could not have believed this of you," the minister said; "I am ashamed of you." "I thought," Babbie retorted, trying to speak lightly until she could get away from him, "that you would be glad to see me. Your last words in Caddam seemed to justify that idea." "I am very sorry to see you," he answered, reproachfully. "Then I will go away at one," she said, stepping out of the summer-seat. "Yes," he replied, "you must go at once." "Then I won't," she said, turning back defiantly. "I know what you are to say: that the Thrums people would be shocked if they knew I was here; as if I cared what the Thrums people think of me." "I care what they think of you," Gavin said, as if that were decisive, "and I tell you I will not allow you to repeat this freak." "You 'will not allow me,'" echoed Babbie, almost enjoying herself, despite her sudden loss of self-respect, "I will not," Gavin said, resolutely. "Henceforth you must do as I think fit." "Since when have you taken command of me?" demanded Babbie. "Since a minute ago," Gavin replied, "when you let me kiss you." "Let you!" exclaimed Babbie, now justly incensed. "You did it yourself. I was very angry." "No, you were not." "I am not allowed to say that even?" asked the Egyptian. "Tell me something I may say, then, and I will repeat it after you." "I have something to say to you," Gavin told her, after a moment's reflection; "yes, and there is something I should like to hear you repeat after me, but not to-night." "I don't want to hear what it is," Babbie said, quickly, but she knew what it was, and even then, despite the new pain at her heart, her bosom swelled with pride because this man still loved her. Now she wanted to run away with his love for her before he could take it from her, and then realising that this parting must be forever, a great desire filled her to hear him put that kiss into words, and she said, faltering: "You can tell me what it is if you like." "Not to-night," said Gavin. "To-night, if at all," the gypsy almost entreated. "To-morrow, at Nanny's," answered Gavin, decisively: and this time he remembered without dismay that the morrow was the Sabbath.