He bent over her hand in a very courtly fashion, and then set off for Chagford with Putt after him.
When they were out of sight Grace turned to her lover and quickly felt his arm round her, his gentle kisses upon her cheek.
"'Tis very well," she said; "but I can't live even on your kisses, sweetheart. This man quite overclouds my spirit. I gasp for air; I suffocate with quotations. You'll have to run away with me, John."
"Whither, my lovely Grace?"
"Why—to your grandmother. I'll dye myself nut-brown and pick snails for Lovey Lee."
Than her jest nothing had better served to show young John the futility of his hopes.
He groaned aloud.
"I have been mad," he said; "each day, each hour shows me how mad."
"Your love must find the way. Read some of my story-books. I'll warrant they'll hearten you. You are meant to do dashing deeds."
"Life falls out so different. What can I do? How shall I set about proving that I'm worthy to tie your shoe-string? The bitter truth is that I'm not."