Honestly, it's killing you. I was
watching you last night. You're scared if that infernal old woman
starts to open her mouth. She's crushing the life out of you. I'm going
to stay on here till you say you'll marry me, or till they throw me
out."
"There are parsnips for dinner to-night," said Eve, softly.
"I shall get to like them. They are an acquired taste, I expect.
Perhaps I am, too. Perhaps I am the human parsnip, and you will have to
learn to love me."
"You are the human burr," said Eve, shortly. "I shouldn't have thought
it possible for a man to behave as you are doing."
* * * * *
In spite of herself, there were moments during the next few days when
Eve felt twinges of remorse. It was only by telling herself that he had
no right to have followed her to this house, and that he was at perfect
liberty to leave whenever he wished, that she could harden her heart
again. And even this reflection was not entirely satisfactory, for it
made her feel how fond he must be of her to endure these evils for her
sake.
And there was no doubt about there being evils. It was a dreary house
in which to spend winter days. There were no books that one could
possibly read.
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