“Captain Coppinger?”
Judith colored. “I beg your pardon—I forgot. And now—I do not recollect what I was going to say. It matters nothing. If you wish me to go I will go. If you wish me to wear diamond butterflies I will wear them.”
“I thank you.” He held out his hands to her.
She drew back slightly and folded her palms as though praying. “I will do much to please you, but do not press me too greatly. I am strange in this house, strange in my new situation; give me time to breathe and look round and recover my confidence. Besides, we are only half-married so far.”
“How so?”
“I have not signed the register.”
“No, but that shall be done to-morrow.”
“Yes, to-morrow—but that gives me breathing time. You will be patient and forbearing with me.” She put forward her hands folded and he put his outside them and pressed them. The flicker of the fire lent a little color to her cheeks and surrounded her head with an aureole of spun gold.
“Judith, I will do anything you ask. I love you with all my soul, past speaking. I am your slave. But do not hold me too long in chains, do not tread me too ruthlessly under foot.”
“Give me time,” she pleaded.