Dansay bit his lip—he was afraid so.
Caro began to cry.
"My fäather will kill me, surelye."
She knew for certain that Pete would tell him, and then almost quite as certainly she would lose the adventure which had become life itself to her. She would be driven back into the old prison, the old loneliness, the old despair. She clung to Dansay, weeping and frantic:
"Oh, Joe—döan't let them find me. I can't lose you—I wöan't lose you—I love you so."
He was leading her away from the people, to the back of the stalls. He was nearly as miserable and aghast as she. For he had become extraordinarily fond of her during those few weeks, and the thought of losing her turned him cold. He had been a fool to bring her to the Fair.
"You must come away with me," he said abruptly.
"Oh, Joe!"
It was a bold step, but he saw that none other would serve, and he realised that she was not the kind of woman to take advantage of him and make herself a permanent encumbrance.
"Yes—there's nothing for it but that. We'll go down and stay at the Camber. You'll be safe with me, and I've got a little money put by."