iently, "I don't know what
you mean."

"You're clever."

"No."

"Then why have you got rid of her like that?"

"Are you speaking of my sister?"

"Yes, I am. I want to know why you've sent her off."

"I don't think it's your affair, but I will tell you. She was not happy
here. If she had been happy, she would not have behaved foolishly with
you."

"Ah! I thought you'd come to that. I see."

"What do you see?"

"Why you've got rid of her."

"I suppose you are hinting something," she said wearily. "Please don't
do it. I cannot--I cannot possibly be polite, if you are not
straightforward. And please be quick, because I have a lot to do."

He flushed at this gentle hectoring, but he could not still his
curiosity.

"I want to know," he said slowly, "what your little idea is about
me--about me--and you. Are you going to try backing out of it, now that
you have her safe?"

She had not thought of it; her face showed that, and he did not need the
assurance of her quiet words.

"I was afraid," he muttered, half abashed. "I thought you'd take a
chance."

"I couldn't take one unless you offered it," she said.

There were thoughts behind his eyes; he seemed to waver, and she
steadied her own face for fear of doing the one thing that would not
move him. Now she did not pray: she had a dread of asking for herself,
lest God, in punishment, should grant the prayer and let worse follow.
Escape was only to be made through a door of George's opening, and she
knew he would never let her through, but she looked at the clouds and
waited for him to speak.

His words were heralded by guttural noises in his throat.

"I want you," he said at last, with the simplicity of a desire for
bread. "And there isn't any need to wait. I'm going to town today. I'll
see about it. In three weeks--"

She said nothing; she was still watching the clouds; they were like
baskets overbrimming with heaped snow.

He came nearer. "I'm going to get a ring. And, after all, we needn't
wait three weeks. I'll get a licence. What kind of ring?"

Zebedee's ring was hanging on a ribbon round her neck, and she put a
hand to her throat and pressed the hard stones against her skin.

"I suppose one has to have a wedding ring."

"I meant--another kind," he said.

"Is it worth while for such a little time?" she asked and did not look
at him.

"There's afterwards."

"Yes. There's afterwards." She might have been lingering on the words
with love, b