She seemed to leap a full foot away from him, her eyes blazing. She whispered, "Charles—you never told me you were married!"
"I'd be a pretty poor man if some woman hadn't picked me out," he replied. "Furthermore, I have not been in love with my wife for a good many years—nor she in love with me."
"But this is horrible!" the girl moaned.
Justin scowled at her, utterly taken aback by her reaction. Other hints she had dropped came back to him, Dr. Phillips' pitying words about her problem. He said, "I take it then that you are involved with a married man in your time."
She flared at him, "Nay, I am not involved—though all about me, even my father, aye, even my mother, seem to wish me on my backside with this horrid old man. They say 'tis for the good of this or the welfare of that that I should give myself to him—me, who cannot stand the stench of his very breath!"
Justin had slipped from the cot. Facing her he said softly, "All the more reason that I should go with you. I can take care of this unwelcome suitor and at least I shall not have a wife in your time for almost two hundred years to come—unless of course I marry you."
"That would be highly improper, not to say felonious," she retorted but he could sense the softening in her voice.
He said, "No more improper than coming to my world and having my wife catch us in bed together. How would you explain that to your sweet New England conscience? Or perhaps we'd better call off the whole thing."
"Nay, Charles," she said simply and stood up and was briefly in his embrace. After a little, her face puckered with worry, "But Darling Charles, how am I to explain thee? And how will ye survive? Ye'll arrive in midwinter in ye'r outlandish costume without a groat to ye'r name."