I took some time before I answered. "You don't understand how men feel," I said. She waited for what else I had to say. I lay prone, and gathered together and shaped and reshaped a little heap of pine needles. "You see---- I can't do it. I want you." She gripped a handful of my hair, and tugged hard between each word. "Haven't you got me?" she asked between her teeth. "What more _could_ you have?" "I want you openly." She folded her arms beneath her. "_No_," she said. For a little while neither of us spoke. "It's the trouble of the deceit?" she asked. "It's--the deceit." "We can stop all that," she said. I looked up at her face enquiringly. "By having no more to hide," she said, with her eyes full of tears. "If it's nothing to you----" "It's everything to me," I said. "It's overwhelming me. Oh Mary, heart of my life, my dear, come out of this! Come with me, come and be my wife, make a clean thing of it! Let me take you away, and then let me marry you. I know it's asking you--to come to a sort of poverty----" But Mary's blue eyes were alight with anger. "Isn't it a clean thing _now_, Stephen?" she was crying. "Do you mean that you and I aren't clean now? Will you never understand?" "Oh clean," I answered, "clean as Eve in the garden. But can we keep clean? Won't the shadow of our falsehoods darken at all? Come out of it while we are still clean. Come with me. Justin will divorce you. We can stay abroad and marry and come back." Mary was kneeling up now with her hands upon her knees. "Come back to what?" she cried. "Parliament?--after that? You _boy!_ you sentimentalist! you--you duffer! Do you think I'd let you do it for your own sake even? Do you think I want you--spoilt? We should come back to mope outside of things, we should come back to fret our lives out. I won't do it, Stephen, I won't do it. End _this_ if you like, break our hearts and throw them away and go on without them, but to turn all our lives into a scandal, to give ourselves over to the mean and the malicious, a prey to old women--and _you_ damned out of everything! A man partly forgiven! A man who went wrong for a woman! _No!_" She sprang lightly to her feet and stood over me as I knelt before her. "And I came here to be made love to, Stephen! I came here to be loved! And you talk that nonsense! You remind me of everything--wretched!" She lifted up her hands and then struck down with them, a gesture of infinite impatience. Her face as she bent to me was alive with a friendly anger, her eyes suddenly dark. "You _duffer_!" she repeated.... § 10