'Yes.'
'Dare you offer it again to me after all I know?'
'What a little tragedy spit-fire it is! Well, it is perhaps too much to ask you to love me, so I will only crave permission to love you.'
'Insult on insult! Oh, this is intolerable!' exclaimed Ellinor, covering her face with her hands. 'It is useless to remind a man like you of his marriage.'
Sleath's eyes gleamed dangerously. He and Ellinor were alone in the saloon, as Dewsnap and the sailing-master were smoking on deck, and the companion-way was kept bolted to prevent any attempt at escape.
'What did I know of life, of the world, or of human nature when I met that artful woman with the absurd name, Fubsby, and took vows—if vows they were—for a life-time. Married! Well, even if I were so legally—which I don't quite admit—what then? In the society in which we move—'
'We?'
'Dewsnap and I—flirtation forms the great occupation—even accomplishment—of married life on the part of those who are bound by it. You have much to learn yet, my simple little Ellinor.'
'Do you call this conduct of yours flirtation—this illegal and punishable abduction of me—and insulting, loathly love-making?'
'Loathly—an unpleasant phrase to use. Instead of the wretched life you lead at Paddington, I can give you one well worth living,' said he, as if he addressed a girl at a bar or a buffet, and in ignorance of all that had passed since he had discovered their residence in St. Mary's Terrace; 'and in turn, Ellinor, you will learn that a faithful old lover is not to be despised.'