"Don't plead against me, Kate," he was saying. "You know I oughtn't to stay here till we are free to marry."
"But that will be months yet, you say—a whole six months at the soonest. Griff, I shall want you to death before the waiting is over."
His arms went round her at that; but he had made up his mind, and nothing could turn him aside.
"We must give ourselves a chance," he said gruffly, setting her away from him. "What can folk help but think, if you and I live here while the case is pending? You might help me a little, Kate; it is not too easy for me."
She gripped his arm with quick, passionate strength.
"You shan't go back to London, if I have to hang round your neck like a millstone. They are too fond of you there; you'll go to your fine ladies, and you'll talk and laugh and flirt, and they will make me look silly in your thoughts. You shan't go there, I tell you!"
Griff laughed mightily; and "Wife," said he—she quickened to the premature tenderness of the word—"wife, I was never sure till this moment that you loved me; but now I know it. What! you're jealous."
"Jealous or not," she retorted—but the softness was gaining in her cheeks—"it will break my heart if you go to London."
"Then I won't! There, does that satisfy you?"
With a woman's swift returning on her own paces, "Griff," she whispered, "do you want to go? I'm foolish, and if you really want——"