“Why, yes. To-night I go for my revenge, and ride straight from the inn door.”
“Then I go with you to the ‘Crown,’” I cried, very positive.
He dropp’d playing with his curl, and look’d me in the face, his mouth twitching with a queer smile.
“And so thou shalt Jack: but why?”
“I’ll give no reason,” said I, and knew I was blushing.
“Then be at the corner of All Hallows’ Church in Turl Street at seven to-night. I lodge over Master Simon’s, the glover, and must be about my affairs. Jack,”—he came near and took my hand—“am sure thou lovest me.”
He nodded, with another cordial smile, and went his way up the grove, his amber cloak flaunting like a belated butterfly under the leaf less trees; and so pass’d out of my sight.