He started.
"What do you say, my darling dear?"
"Us don't think all alike there. I hate a mean spirit in a man. Not that you've got one—far, far from that. But I hate even a dog that cringes; and maybe God thinks the same of a man that does."
"Can we cringe to the Almighty?"
"The Giver's more than the gift to you, perhaps?"
"Nought on earth could be more than the gift, and well you know it! But——"
"I've given myself to you. I've done it myself—out of my own heart," she cried almost passionately.
He did not argue the point, but put his arms round her again. Yet he pondered as they passed on to Dunnagoat Cottage; and presently she startled him once more.
Mr. Friend took the news in a spirit very stoical.
"It had to come: 'twas only a question of time. I've always knowed that," he said. "I'm going to bargain for a fair spell of keeping company afore you do the rash deed. You catched fire from each other the first moment you met, I do believe. But sometimes the love that's soon ripe is soon rotten. So you'll just larn a bit about each other and we'll talk of marrying presently, when there's a foundation of understanding and knowledge built up between you."