on holding her in air, though his arms were beginning to tremble a
little with the strain, and simply followed her mouth with his, brushing
it lightly. Suddenly she felt she could bear no longer that easy
mastery, those following lips that passed and repassed over hers and
could so easily have settled if they chose. Why didn't they? She turned
like a little animal, and instead of evading any longer, sank her lips
into his.

She hung there then, helpless indeed; for his mouth, no longer making a
play of hers, held it, bore it down. When he released her he dropped her
on to her feet at the same time. Phoebe turned from him and ran
towards the mill. He followed leisurely, sure of her next action as only
his experience of women could have made him sure, and found her, for all
her flight, waiting for him in the shadow of the door.

"You shouldn't," she murmured. "I had to wait and tell you you
shouldn't. 'Tesn't right or fitty to kiss that way. It frightens me,
Archelaus."

"Why edn' it right?"

"Because--because we aren't wed," faltered Phoebe.

"Wed!..." In his voice was light laughter and a kindly scorn. "What's
wed but a word? We're men and women on this earth; that's all that
matters to my way of thinken!"

Phoebe was vaguely hurt and insulted, which did duty for being shocked
very well. She opened the door and passed into the passage.