He kissed her lips, and she clung to him with the first expression of weakness she had ever shown. "How could I when it ended like that?" "Well, you're married anyway--that ought to satisfy you. What does it feel like?" "I can't believe it--and I haven't even any ring." "Oh, the ring! If you'd had it, you'd have dropped it about somewhere and let out the secret." "I wish it had been in church and before a clergyman." "Are you trying to make me jealous again of the Reverend Orlando? I'm an old married man now, and it is hopeless." "Do you really feel married, Jonathan?" "The deuce I don't! If I did I'd be galloping down the turnpike." "I wonder why you did it?" she questioned a little wistfully, "you take it so lightly." "I could only take it lightly after I'd done it--that's why, darling." "If I could believe in it I shouldn't mind the secrecy," she said, "but I feel so wicked and underhand that I hardly dare hold up my head before the folks at home. Jonathan, when do you think we may come out and confess?" For a moment he did not answer, and she watched the frown gather slowly between his eyebrows. "There, there, Blossom, don't begin that already," he responded irritably, "we can't make it public as long as my mother lives--that's out of the question. Do you think I could love you if I felt you had forced me to murder her? Heaven knows I've done enough--I've married you fair and square, and you ought to be satisfied." "I am satisfied," she replied on the point of tears, "but, oh, Jonathan, I'm not happy." "Then it's your own fault," he answered, still annoyed with her. "You've had everything your own way, and just because I get in trouble and come to you for sympathy, you begin to nag. For God's sake, don't become a nagging woman, Blossom. A man hates her worse than poison." "O Jonathan!" she cried out sharply, placing her hand on her breast as though he had stabbed her. "Of course, I'm only warning you. Your great charm is poise--I never saw a woman who had so much of it. That's what a man wants in a wife, too. Vagaries are all right in a girl, but when he marries, he wants something solid and sensible." "Then you do love me, Jonathan?" "Don't be a goose," he rejoined--for it was a question to which he had never in his life returned a direct answer. "Of course, I know you do or you wouldn't have married me--but I wish you'd tell me so--just in words--sometimes." "If I told you so, you'd have no curiosity left, and that would be bad for you. Come, kiss me, sweetheart, that's better than talking."