"You think it better that I should grow into an old maid, and you into an old bachelor. Very well. Thank you. Perhaps we shall both be happier for it. Let me drive on, Mr. Richard."
He drew nearer to her; made her turn to him. The great love of his heart shone in his face and eyes. A face of emotion then. She dropped the reins, regardless of what the rough pony might do, and put her other hand upon his.
"Oh, Richard, don't let us carry on the farce any longer! We have been playing it all these months and years. Let us at least be honest with each other: and then, if you decide for separation, why--it must be so."
But, as it seemed, Richard did not mean to decide for it. He glanced round to make sure that no one was in the lonely road: and, drawing her face to his, left some strangely ardent kisses on it.
"I could not give up my works, Mary."
"No one asked you to do so, sir."
"It is just as though I had left the furniture in the Hall for the purpose."
"Perhaps you did."
"Mary!"
"There's the pony going. Stand still, Gyp. I won't give up Gyp, mind, Richard. I know he is frightfully ragged and ugly, and that you despise him; but I won't give him up. He can be the set-off bargain against your works, sir."