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Her face softened. She leaned a little toward him with uncontrollable tenderness. But as he made a quick movement, she drew back.

“No, Frank. I can’t—I can’t! It won’t do. Such things is what breaks women’s hearts!”

“What things, dear?”

“Folks livin’ together that way. There’s no good ever comes of it. I’d have to set up with mother just the same, an’ you’d be worryin’ all the time for fear it ’u’d make me sick, an’ you’d be wantin’ to set up with ’er yourself.”

“Of course,” he said, stoutly. “I’d expect to. That’s what I mean. I’d take some o’ your load off o’ you.”

Demaris smiled mournfully. “You don’t know what it is, Frank. It’s all very well to talk about it, but when it comes to doin’ it you’d be tired out ’n a month. You’d wish you hadn’t married me—an’ that ’u’d kill me!”

“I wouldn’t. Oh, Demaris, just you try me. I’ll be good to all your folks—just as good’s can be, dear. I swear it.”

She leaned toward him again with a sob. He took her in his arms. He felt the delicious warmth of her body. Their lips trembled together.