"But doesn't Mistress Quinton sup with us?" she said.
Mistress Quinton, it seemed, had no appetite for a meal, was shut close in her own chamber, and refused all service. Nell laughed and bade me fall to. I obeyed, being hungry in spite of my discomfort.
I was resolute not to quarrel with her. She had shewn me great friendliness; nay, and I had a fondness for her, such as I defy any man (man I say, not woman) to have escaped. But she tried me sorely, and while we ate she plied me with new challenges and fresh incitements to anger. I held my temper well in bounds, and, when I was satisfied, rose with a bow, saying that I would go and enquire if I could be of any aid to Mistress Quinton.
"She won't shew herself to you," cried Nell mockingly.
"She will, if you're not with me," I retorted.
"Make the trial! Behold, I'm firmly seated here!"
A maid carried my message while I paced the corridor; the lady's compliments returned to me, but, thanks to the attention of the host, she had need of nothing. I sent again, saying that I desired to speak with her concerning our journey. The lady's excuses returned to me; she had a headache and had sought her bed; she must pray me to defer my business till the morrow, and wished Mistress Gwyn and me good-night. The maid tripped off smiling.
"Plague on her!" I cried angrily and loudly. A laugh greeted the exclamation, and I turned to see Nell standing in the doorway of the room where we had supped.
"I knew, I knew!" she cried, revelling in her triumph, her eyes dancing in delight. "Poor Simon! Alas, poor Simon, you know little of women! But come, you're a brave lad, and I'll comfort you. Besides you have given me a jewelled dagger. Shall I lend it to you again, to plunge in your heart, poor Simon?"