"Is it," she stammered, "is it that you don't want me?"
"Think!" he said. "Think what if folks finds out—Sir Clifford an' a'—an' everybody talkin'—"
"Well, I can go away."
"Where to?"
"Anywhere! I've got money of my own. My mother left me twenty thousand pounds in trust, and I know Clifford can't touch it. I can go away."
"But 'appen you don't want to go away."
"Yes, yes! I don't care what happens to me."
"Ay, you think that! But you'll care! You'll have to care, everybody has. You've got to remember your Ladyship is carrying on with a gamekeeper. It's not as if I was a gentleman. Yes, you'd care. You'd care."
"I shouldn't, What do I care about my ladyship! I hate it really. I feel people are jeering every time they say it. And they are, they are! Even you jeer when you say it."
"Me!"
For the first time he looked straight at her, and into her eyes.
"I don't jeer at you," he said.
As he looked into her eyes she saw his own eyes go dark, quite dark, the pupil dilating.
"Don't you care about a' the risk?" he asked in a husky voice. "You should care. Don't care when it's too late!"
There was a curious warning pleading in his voice.
"But I've nothing to lose," she said fretfully. "If you knew what it is, you'd think I'd be glad to lose it. But are you afraid for yourself?"
"Ay!" he said briefly. "I am. I'm afraid. I'm afraid. I'm afraid o' things."
"What things?" she asked.
He gave a curious backward jerk of his head, indicating the outer world.
"Things! Everybody! The lot of 'em."
Then he bent down and suddenly kissed her unhappy face.
"Nay, I don't care," he said. "Let's have it, an' damn the rest. But if you was to feel sorry you'd ever done it!"
"Don't put me off," she pleaded.
He put his fingers to her cheek and kissed her again suddenly.
