"I suppose I mustn't stay here?"
She shook her head, with lips pressed tight.
His voice was thick and obscure when he asked: "You won't come with me?"
She shook her head again. She could not have spoken. She was in acute torture.
"Well," he said, "I suppose I can count on you not to give me up to the police?"
"The police?" she exclaimed. "Why?"
"Well, you know,--it's a three years' job--at least. Ever heard the word 'bigamy'?" His voice was slightly ironical.
"Oh dear!" she breathed, already disconcerted. It had positively not occurred to her to consider the legal aspect of George's conduct.
"But what can you do?" she asked, with the innocent, ignorant helplessness of a girl.
"I can disappear," he replied. "That's all I can do! I don't see myself in prison. I went over Stafford Prison once. The Governor showed several of us over. And I don't see myself in prison."