He looked down at her shrewdly.

“Won’t folks be thinkin’ somethink, you comin’ here every night?” he said.

“Why?” She looked up at him, at a loss. “I said I’d come. Nobody knows.”

“They soon will, though,” he replied. “An’ what then?”

She was at a loss for an answer.

“Why should they know?” she said.

“Folks always does,” he said fatally.

Her lip quivered a little.

“Well I can’t help it,” she faltered.

“Nay,” he said. “You can help it by not comin’⁠—if yer want to,” he added, in a lower tone.

“But I don’t want to,” she murmured.