He waited for her, and in another moment they had crossed the road under the shadow of the poplar. From that point she could see the roof of the cottage where the evangelist was staying. The gable rose up high like a symbol of the power she was obeying. ‘Not here,’ she whispered. ‘We might be seen.’ He helped her over the gate, taking her down in his arms. She stiffened beneath his touch. A heavy dew had come out on the grass that washed her ankles as she walked, for she had not pulled on her stockings. Owls were hunting in the misty starlight. One floated before them along the hedgerow—ghostly on quiet wings. He caught her up in his arms.
‘Now what’s it all about?’ he said.
She hurried to tell him before it grew more difficult, stammering with haste; but when she came to the story of her conversion and her interview with Evan Hughes she felt the weight of his ridicule overbearing her. She hadn’t humbled herself enough to bear the indignity of being laughed at, and least of all by Abner. She stopped suddenly.
‘Let me go back!’ she said, trying to free herself. ‘Let me go back!’
He only held her closer.
‘What’s all this havering?’ he said. ‘What’s up with you, eh? Give us a kiss!’
She put her hands up to his mouth, struggling. ‘I can’t . . . I can’t!’
‘What do you want then?’
She took her plunge. ‘Abner, why don’t you marry me?’ she said.
‘Marry you? Marry?’ he cried. He laughed out loud at the idea.