"But really—to get married."
"Married?"
She started bolt upright on the sofa, the feminine ever on the defensive.
"Yes," said Septimus quickly. "Don't you see? If you will go through the form of marriage with me—oh, just the form, you know—and we both disappear abroad somewhere for a year—I in one place and you in another, if you like—then we can come back to Zora, nominally married, and—and—"
"And what?" asked Emmy, stonily.
"And then you can say you can't live with me any longer. You couldn't stand me. I don't think any woman could. Only Wiggleswick could put up with my ways."
Emmy passed her hands across her eyes. She was somewhat dazed.
"You would give me your name—and shield me—just like that!" Her voice quavered.
"It isn't much to give. It's so short," he remarked absently. "I've always thought it such a silly name."
"You would tie yourself for life to a girl who has disgraced herself, just for the sake of shielding her?"