He had dropped his vile pronunciation, and had strangely regained the simple dignity with which he had spoken to me at Traxelby.
"Not that you're going to give him up?" he repeated.
"Yes, yes, yes!" said Susan. "I don't want him! I won't have him! I can't bear him! Take me away!"
"And if I do," he asked intently, "can you bear me, Susie? Will you have me?"
"Oh, Tom, of course I will!" she wailed, clinging to him with all her might. And, suddenly raising herself on tiptoe, she gave him a resounding rustic kiss.
Behind our bush we recoiled a little, both from them and from one another.
"We will go," said Ruddington.
"We won't," I said, pinching his arm to keep him quiet. So we looked away while Gibson returned the kiss, not once, or twice, or thrice.
"Susie," demanded Gibson at last, "what is his name? Who is he?"
"His name," proclaimed Susan, after an effective delay, "is Lord Ruddington."