"Don’t ’ee play with me," he said again. "I couldn’t bear it, I’ve ’ad as much as I can stand. ’Ee knaw I love ’ee." "I—I don’t—I don’t want to." "Don’t want to? Don’t want to know that night after night I can’t sleep for thinking of ’ee?" He struck his chest with a strong blunt-fingered hand. "Here’s your place, love, and my arm’ll ache till I ’old ’ee again." Hot colour dyed her face. To think that she should have lain in his arms! On that day, too, of all the days in the year, of all the days in a lifetime! "’Tis all a mistake." "The day’ll come when you’ll worship the ground I tread on." "No—never." "I’ll make ’ee love me. I loved ’ee from the first day you come ’ere. I’ve never wanted nobody but you and I’ve wanted ’ee ever since I did see your ’andsome face about Wastralls and heard you singin’, ’appy as a greybird. Wastralls an’ you, they go together in my mind. I love ’ee, Gray, and you know what that means to a man like me, what cares for nobody and nothing. I’m eaten up with the love of you. I’d do anything to get ’ee. I must ’av ’ee and I will ’av ’ee." He came a step nearer, but she drew back. "Leave me alone, leave me alone." "Leave ’ee alone? I want to be kissin’ of ’ee all the day." The girl was trembling. She leant one arm upon the stone slab behind her, and the shock of its coldness was a steadying influence. "I bain’t gwine let you kiss me. I’d rather slap yer face for yer. What d’yer think then?" He coaxed her tenderly. "Bain’t I worth ’avin’ then?" "I bain’t gwine ’av nothing to do with ’ee. I wouldn’t ’ave ’ee for the world." Taking up one of the butter pats she began mechanically shaping the mass. "What’s the matter with me that you won’t ’av nothing to do with me?" Straightening himself, he opened out unusually broad shoulders and the candlelight revealed a face of black shadows and strong saliences. How strong, how ruthless, how confident he looked! Gray felt her old fear returning, she could not believe that this strange man would be held in check by any of the received standards. "You’m married and old enough to be my father." She clinched the matter: "You’m married to Aunt S’bina." He laughed contemptuously. "Ah, but you would ’av me, if I was a widower, a widower wi’ Wastralls for my own." Putting down the pat, Gray turned at that in a sudden ruffle of indignation. "Take an’ ’old your tongue," she commanded. "I’m ashamed of ’ee to talk like that." "Well," he persisted, only anxious for her to realize that he meant to make her mistress of all he hoped for in life—Wastralls. "I may be before long. I don’t believe the missis’ll live very long." "I hate that kind of talk!"