"There is indeed a distance between his Grace and my lord," Darrell admitted.
"When rogues fall out! A fine saying that, Darrell. And what of the King?"
"My lord tells me that the King swears he won't sleep o' nights till he has laid a certain troublesome fellow by the heels."
"And where is that same troublesome fellow?"
"So near me that, did I serve the King as I ought, Robert would now be on his way with news for my Lord Arlington."
"Then His Majesty's sentiments are mighty unkind towards me? Be at peace, Darrell. I am come to London to seek him."
"To seek him? Are you mad? You'll follow Phineas Tate!"
"But I have a boon to ask of the King. I desire him to use his good offices with my Lord Quinton. For I am hardly a fit match for my lord's daughter, and yet I would make her my wife."
"I wonder," observed Darrell, "that you, Simon, who, being a heretic, must go to hell when you die, are not more careful of your life."
Then we both fell to laughing.