“What do you torment me for? Why are you mocking at me? Why do you say that⁠—laughing into your hair?”

“I wasn’t laughing. And I’m not mocking. If you want me to go, I’ll go. But if you want me to stay⁠—I’ll stay.”

“Not that!” he cried vehemently. “Not that. Don’t tempt me, Anne. Do you realize what I am? A criminal twice over. A man hunted down. They know me here as Harry Parker⁠—they think I’ve been away on a trek up country, but any day they may put two and two together⁠—and then the blow will fall. You’re so young, Anne, and so beautiful⁠—with the kind of beauty that sends men mad. All the world’s before you⁠—love, life, everything. Mine’s behind me⁠—scorched, spoiled, with a taste of bitter ashes.”

“If you don’t want me⁠—”