He drew back the bolt and pushed open the door in the high wall. The
sunlight flooded the loft; it streamed down the stair. The dust danced
in it.
Jim stood on the stair. He smiled down at Alice where she waited
below.
"Coom oop into t' haay loft, Ally."
He stooped. He held out his hand and she climbed to him up the stair.
They sat there on the floor of the loft, silent, in the attitude of
children who crouch hiding in their play. He had strewn for her a
carpet of the soft, sweet hay and piled it into cushions.
"Oh, Jim," she said at last. "I'm so frightened. I'm so horribly
frightened."
She stretched out her arm and slid her hand into his.
Jim's hand pressed hers and let it go. He leaned forward, his elbows
propped on his knees, his hands clutching his forehead. And in his
thick, mournful voice he spoke.
"Yo wouldn't bae freetened ef yo married mae. There'd bae an and of
these scares, an' wae sudn't 'ave t' roon these awful risks."
"I can't marry you, darling. I can't."
"Yo caann't, because yo're freetened o' mae. I coom back to thot. Yo
think I'm joost a roough man thot caann't understand yo. But I do. I
couldn't bae roough with yo, Ally, anny more than Nad, oop yon, could
bae roough wi' t' lil laambs."
He was lying flat on his back now, with his arms stretched out above
his head. He stared up at the rafters as he went on.
"Yo wouldn't bae freetened o' mae ef yo looved mae as I loove yo.
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