'My God!' he burst out, gripping her wrist, 'an' a proper soft fool ye've made o' me. Who is't, I tell ye? Who's t' man?'
'Ye're hurtin' me. Let me go. I canna tell ye.'
'And ye're fond o' him?'
'No, no. He's a wicked, sinful man. I pray God I may never set eyes on him again. I told him so.'
'But ef he's got ye into trouble, he'll hev t' marry ye,' he persisted with a brutal bitterness.
'I will not. I hate him!' she cried fiercely.
'But is he willin' t' marry ye?'
'I don't know ... I don't care ... he said so before he went away ... But I'd kill myself sooner than live with him.'
He let her hands fall and stepped back from her. She could only see his figure, like a sombre cloud, standing before her. The whole fell-side seemed still and dark and lonely. Presently she heard his voice again:
'I reckon what there's one road oot o' yer distress.'