He won't until she does, mainly because it just doesn't occur to him to do so.

The place is pretty basic - some fairly comfortable furniture in front of a large open fire, a wooden table in a farmhouse-style kitchen. A few plates and a saucepan are drying by the sink and on the sideboard next to the stairs up to the first floor enough alcohol is stacked to drown a shipful of sailors. There are draws in that sideboard with large padlocks on. No prizes for guessing whats in there, or how he's spending his evenings of solitude.

'Coffee? And then you'd better tell me how you found me. Nearly shot you, thought you were the cops.'