It was more than a year since he had mingled his talk to her with any such sign of affection, and her feeling was one of outrage.

What protection had she?
The caresses had followed upon an insult, and were themselves brutal, degrading.

It was a realisation of one of those half-formed fears which had so long haunted her in his presence.
What would life be with him, away from the protections of a wealthy home, when circumstances would have made him once more the London artisan, and in doing so would have added harshness to his natural temper; when he would no longer find it worth while to preserve the semblance of gentle breeding?
Was there strength in her to endure that?
Presently he turned, and she heard him speak her name.

She raised her eyes with a half-smile of abashment.

He approached and took her hand.
'Have you thought what this means to me ?' he asked, in a much softer voice.
'I know it must be very hard.' 'I don't mean in that way.