"But now you have to take my high-lows as part of your duty."
"And you?"
"When a man loves a woman he falls in love with everything belonging to her. You don't wear high-lows. Everything you possess as specially your own has to administer to my sense of love and beauty."
"I wish—I wish it might be so."
"There is no danger about that at all. But I have to come before you on an occasion such as this as a kind of navvy,—and you must accept me." She glanced around furtively to see whether their guide was looking, but the guide had gone back out of sight. For, sitting on her pony, she had her arm around his neck and kissed him. "And then there is ever so much more," he continued. "I don't think I snore?"
"Indeed, no! There isn't a sound comes from you. I sometimes look to see if I think you are alive."
"But if I do, you'll have to put up with it. That would be one of your duties as a wife. You never could have thought of that when I had those dress-boots on."
"Of course I didn't. How can you talk such rubbish?"
"I don't know whether it is rubbish. Those are the kind of things that must fall upon a woman so heavily. Suppose I were to beat you?"
"Beat me!"