She was faintly shocked because he had kissed her in church, so he drew her to him, tilting back her chin.
"You mustn't" ... but she had lost the power of gainsaying him now, and made no effort to release herself. He held her up against the pillar and gave her mouth another idolatrous kiss before he let her go.
"If it happened all that while back, they might at least have got the marks off by this time," she said, tucking away her loosened hair.
Martin laughed aloud—her little reactions of common sense after their passionate moments never failed to amuse and delight him.
"You'd have had it off with your broom, and that's all you think about it. But look here, child—what if it happened again?"
"It can't."
"How do you know?"
"It can't—I know it."
"But if it happened then it could happen again."
"There ain't been a flood on the Marsh in my day, nor in my poor father's day, neither. Sometimes in February the White Kemp brims a bit, but I've never known the roads covered. You're full of old tales. And now let's go out, for laughing and love-making ain't the way to behave in church."