Mary forced herself to go on. “This is how I've worked it out, Joe! I said to meself, 'Ye love this man; and it's his love ye want—nothin' else! If he's got a place in the world, ye'd only hold him back—and ye'd not want to do that. Ye don't want his name, or his friends, or any of those things—ye want him!' Have ye ever heard of such a thing as that?” Her cheeks were flaming, but she continued to meet his gaze. “Yes, I've heard of it,” he answered, in a low voice.
“What would ye say to it? Is it honest? The Reverend Spragg would say 'twas the devil, no doubt; Father O'Gorman, down in Pedro, would call it mortal sin; and maybe they know—but I don't! I only know I can't stand it any more!”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she cried out suddenly, “Oh, take me away from here! Take me away and give me a chance, Joe! I'll ask nothing, I'll never stand in your way; I'll work for ye, I'll cook and wash and do everything for ye, I'll wear my fingers to the bone! Or I'll go out and work at some job, and earn my share. And I'll make ye this promise—if ever ye get tired and want to leave me, ye'll not hear a word of complaint!”
She made no conscious appeal to his senses; she sat gazing at him honestly through her tears, and that made it all the harder to answer her.
What could he say? He felt the old dangerous impulse—to take the girl in his arms and comfort her. When finally he spoke it was with an effort to keep his voice calm. “I'd say yes, Mary, if I thought it would work.”
“It would work! It would, Joe! Ye can quit when ye want to. I mean it!”
“There's no woman lives who can be happy on such terms, Mary. She wants her man, and she wants him to herself, and she wants him always; she's only deluding herself if she believes anything else. You're over-wrought now, what you've seen in the last few days has made you wild—”
“No!” she exclaimed. “'Tis............