She sighs, soft and sad and weary, and gathers his hands together between both of hers. Susan bows her head over his hands, golden hair falling down over them in a cascade, and kisses his fingers, then his palms, before she raises her head to look him in the eye once more.

"It were only 'cause thee were trying to wake me, I wot," she murmurs. "Thee were, weren't thee?"