"You'll catch your death here."
"A good thing too. I can't go on living. If I do, I shall go mad," she cried, pressing her hands to her head.
Passers-by were beginning to notice them.
Without success, Perigal urged her to walk.
She became hysterically excited and upbraided him in no uncertain voice. She seemed to be working herself into a paroxysm of frenzy. To calm her, perhaps because he was moved by her extremity, he overwhelmed her with endearments, the while he kissed her hands, her arms, her face, when no one was by.
She was influenced by his caresses, for she, presently, permitted herself to walk with him down the street, where they turned into the railed-in walk which crossed the churchyard.
He redoubled his efforts to induce in her a more normal state of mind.
"Don't you love me, little Mavis?" he asked. "If you did, you wouldn't distress me so."
"Love you!" she laughed scornfully.
"Then why can't you listen and believe what I say?"