This time her words produced a more serious shock. He felt as if one of his arms or legs had been amputated and was stuck up as a ninepin for Gerda to throw things at, not knowing what she did.

“I’ll deal with her, anyway,” he replied.

“We’ll have to have our banns read out in church,” said Gerda.

“We shall!” he conceded, bringing out the syllables like pistol-shots; “but all that part of it will be awful.”

Gerda snatched her fingers from him and clapped her hands together. “Don’t let’s be married!” she cried gaily. “It’ll be far more fun not to be; and if I have a child it’ll be a bastard, like the kings in history!”

But Wolf had already formed a very definite image in his mind of the enchanted hovel where he would live with this unparalleled being, free from all care.