iped the ground with me. Said he'd clap me into prison if I
didn't, and when I said 'All right' to that, he turned on me like a tiger
and asked if I wanted to break your heart. Oh, he made me feel a
ten-times swab, I can tell you. And when I said I didn't want you to
marry an uncaught criminal, he just looked me over and said, 'You've sown
your wild oats. As your partner, I am sponsor for your respectability.' I
knew what that meant, knew he'd stand by me through thick and thin,
whatever turned up. It was the official seal with a vengeance, for what
Fletcher Hill says goes in these parts. But it went against the grain,
little new chum. It made me sick with myself. I hated playing his game
against himself. It was the vilest thing I ever did. I couldn't have done
it--except for you."

The little hand that held his tightened. She leaned her cheek against his
shoulder. "Shall I tell you something?" she whispered. "I couldn't have
done it either--except for--you."

His arm clasped her. "I'm such a poor sort of creature, darling," he said
"I'll work for you--live for you--die for you. But I shall never be
worthy of you."

She lifted her face to his in the gathering darkness. "Dear love," she
said, "do you remember how--once--you asked me to treat you--without
prejudice? But I never have--and I don't believe I ever shall. Fletcher
Hill is right to trust you. He is a judge of men. But I--I am only the
woman who loves you, and--somehow--whichever way I take you--I'm always
prejudiced--in your favour."

The low words ended against his lips. He kissed her closely,
passionately. "My little chum," he said, "I will be worthy--I will be
worthy--so help me God!"

He was near to tears as he uttered his oath; but presently, when he
turned back her sleeve to kiss the place where first his lips had
lingered, they laughed together--the tender laughter of lovers in the
happy morning-time of life.

* * * * *

Her Own Free Will

CHAPTER I

"Well, it's all over now, for better, for worse, as they say. And I hope
very much as it won't be for worse."

A loud sniff expressive of grave misgiving succeeded the remark. The
speaker--one of a knot of village women--edged herself a little further
forward to look up the long strip of red baize that stretched from the
church porch to the lych gate near which she stood. The two cracked bells
were doing their best to