And the time was flying—flying. He looked impatiently at the clock, and then at the girl who was now his wife. And suddenly it was he who felt shy and tongue-tied.
She met his eyes and flushed, without knowing why, and the Beggar Man rose to his feet and went round the table to where she sat.
"You're my wife now, you know," he said.
"Yes." She drew back a little, her eyes dilating, and he broke out again abruptly: "I wish I'd arranged to take you with me. I was a fool. It could have been managed. Will you come if even now I can take you?"
She gave a little cry of alarm.
"Oh, no, I couldn't. There's mother...."
He turned away with a little harsh laugh.
"I see. Your mother and the twins," he said dryly. "They all come before me, who am only your husband."
She looked at him with puzzled eyes, and, vaguely realizing that in some way he was hurt, she said apologetically:
"But I've known you such a little time."