She did not turn away her head. She lifted her dark eyes to his.
"Just what do you mean, Monte?" she demanded.
"I mean," he said uneasily, "that we should get married just so that we can go on—as we have been these last ten days. Really, we'll still only be engaged, but no one need know that. Besides, no one will care, if we're married."
He gained confidence as he went on, though he was somewhat afraid of the wonder in her eyes.
"People don't care anything more about you after you're married," he said. "They just let you drop as if you were done for. It's a queer thing, but they do. Why, if we were married we could sit here all day and no one would give us a second glance. We could have breakfast together as often as we wished, and no one would care a hang. I've seen it done. We could go to Étois together, and I could pay for half the villa and you could pay for half. You can bring Marie, and we can stay as long as we wish without having any one turn an eye."
He was growing enthusiastic now.
"There will be nothing to prevent you from doing just as you wish. You can paint all day if you want. You can paint yards of things—olive trees and sky and rocks. There are lots of them around Étois. And I—"
"Yes," she interrupted; "what can you do, Monte?"
"I can watch you paint," he answered. "Or I can walk. Or I can—oh, there'll be plenty for me to do. If we tire of Étois we can move somewhere else. If we tire of each other's company, why, we can each go somewhere else. It's simple, is n't it? We can both do just as we please, can't we? There won't be a living soul with the right to open his head to us. Do you get that? Why, even if you want to go off by yourself, with Mrs. in front of your name they'll let you alone."
At first she had been surprised, then she had been amused, but now she was thinking.