"Then at eleven, or half-past, the coast is sure to be clear. At eleven to-morrow night I will be here just without the gate, and you must steal out and meet me."
"Laurence!"
"You must—you will, if you love me. Are you not my wife, or going to be in a few days, which amounts to the same thing. Will Gilbert stop here?"
"I don't know. Yes, I suppose so."
"Well, even if he does it will not matter. You can steal out unheard and unobserved, can you not?"
"Yes—no. I don't know. Laurence! Laurence! I am afraid."
"Of what? Of whom? not of me, Norine?"
She shivered a little, and shrank from his side.
"It seems so strange, so bold, so wrong. I ought not, it is wicked—I don't know what to do."
"Then you don't care for me at all, Norine?"