"Shouldn't dream of borin' you to
that extent. I've had enough of it myself as well." He uttered his
pleasant, careless laugh. "I really don't wonder that my courtin' made
you feel spiteful," he said. "I'm glad you're in favour of cuttin' it
too."
Ruth stared at him blankly. Was he laughing at her? Was this to be her
punishment?
He had straightened himself and was smiling down at her, his head within
a foot of the bulging ceiling.
"Tell you what!" he suddenly said. "You eat some breakfast like a good
girl, and then--I'll show you somethin'. Perhaps you'll let me join
you?"
He did not wait for her consent, but sat down at the table. Ruth rose.
He was putting her off, she felt, and she could not bear it. It had cost
her more than he would ever realise to tell him the truth.
"I'm very sorry," she said unsteadily, "but--I don't think we quite
understand each other yet. You know"--her voice failed suddenly, but she
struggled to recover it, and succeeded--"I am not clever--like other
women. I want plain speaking, not hints, I want to be told--in so many
words--that you have set me free."
"Why should I tell you what isn't true?" said Tots. He stretched out his
hand to her without rising. "I haven't set you free," he said, "and I'm
not goin' to. Is that plain enough?"
He caught her hand with the words and drew her gently towards him. "I'll
tell you what I am goin' to do," he said.
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