Her face quivered painfully at the question. She swallowed once or twice spasmodically, like a hurt child trying not to cry.
"That's—nobody's business but mine," she said.
A very curious smile drew Merryon's mouth. "I thought I had had something to do with it," he said. "I think I am entitled to part-ownership, anyway."
She shook her head, albeit she was very close to his breast. "You're not, Billikins!" she declared, with vehemence. "You only say that—out of pity. And I don't want pity. I—I'd rather you hated me than that! Miles rather!"
His arms went round her. He uttered a queer, passionate laugh and drew her to his heart. "And what if I offer you—love?" he said. "Have you no use for that either, my wife—my wife?"
She turned and clung to him, clung fast and desperately, as a drowning person clings to a spar. "But I'm not, Billikins! I'm not!" she whispered, with her face hidden.
"You shall be," he made steadfast answer. "Before God you shall be."
"Ah, do you believe in God?" she murmured.
"I do," he said, firmly.