“We must be married,” he repeated, patting her on the shoulder.
She shook her head in negation.
“Yes,” he said firmly, mentally noting that this was the very first time he had ever caught her in a pretense.
“No.” Her tone was as firm as his. She lifted her head and put her cheek against his. “It makes me very proud that you ask it. But—I—I do not——”
“Do not—what?”
“I do not want—I will not—risk losing you.”
“But you won’t lose me. You will have me more than ever.”
“Some men—yes. But not you.”
“And why not I, O Wisdom?”
“Because—because—do you think I have watched you all this time, without learning something about you? The way to keep you is to leave you free. I do not want your name. I do not want your friends I do not want to be respectable. I want—just you.”