"I do! I don't want them handling me with their unpleasant cold minds, not while I'm still at Wragby. They can think what they like when I'm finally gone."
He was silent.
"But Sir Clifford expects you to come back to him?"
"Oh, I must come back," she said: and there was silence.
"And would you have a child in Wragby?" he asked.
She closed her arm round his neck.
"If you wouldn't take me away, I should have to," she said.
"Take you where to?"
"Anywhere! away! But right away from Wragby."
"When?"
"Why, when I come back."
"But what's the good of coming back, doing the thing twice, if you're once gone?" he said.
"Oh, I must come back. I've promised! I've promised so faithfully. Besides, I come back to you, really."
"To your husband's gamekeeper?"
"I don't see that that matters," she said.
"No?" He mused a while. "And when would you think of going away again, then; finally? When exactly?"
"Oh, I don't know. I'd come back from Venice. And then we'd prepare everything."
"How prepare?"
"Oh, I'd tell Clifford. I'd have to tell him."
"Would you!"
He remained silent. She put her arms fast round his neck.
"Don't make it difficult for me," she pleaded.
"Make what difficult?"
"For me to go to Venice and arrange things."
A little smile, half a grin, flickered on his face.
"I don't make it difficult," he said. "I only want to find out just what you are after. But you don't really know yourself. You want to take time: get away and look at it. I don't blame you. I think you're wise. You may prefer to stay mistress of Wragby. I don't blame you. I've no Wragbys to offer. In fact, you know what you'll get out of me. No, no, I think you're right! I really do! And I'm not keen on coming to live on you, being kept by you. There's that too."
