"Yes; oh, yes; I understand!" Again the shivering seized Joyce.
"I should think to have a man turn a deaf ear to you like that, would end any nonsense without more fuss."
"It—it will." The low voice shook.
"But you see, protecting a young girl agin herself is one thing. He might feel different if a married woman wanted to turn fool. Now, Joyce, I ain't ever going to say anything more about this, 'less it's necessary. I know you're pretty and maybe a bit more flighty along of that, but being married and having your own work, may tone you down. If you'll stick by me, I'll stick by you; and in time Mr. Gaston can be a friend to both of us and no harm done. You understand, don't you? I ain't hard, I'm only letting light in on the whole thing."
"I—I understand, Jude."
"And now, as to marrying. Mr. Gaston is going to lend me money, and I'm going to put up an addition to my shack, and get some fixings over to Hillcrest. If you want, we'll get married over there and rough it together before the buildin's done."
"I—I'd rather wait, Jude if you're willing. I want to get some—some things." Joyce's teeth were chattering. "But if a minister should happen in St. Angé in the meanwhile, I'd—I'd marry you." This seemed a reasonable request—"I don't like the minister over at Hillcrest, he's so fearful in his sermons, he makes me afraid."
"Well," Jude rose, "when the house gets along, we'll see. Things are tight and trim now. Good night! Go to bed—and forget it."
He put his hands on her shoulders and bent and kissed the cold, upturned face. Then he laughed: for he had got what he wanted, and she was very sweet and pretty.
"Go to bed now—trot on!"