“Bonito. There!”
“Paid Bonito?”
“With a bond that just spells her ruin. He’s got it on him now.”
“I understand. Where is he?”
“At Loustalot the blacksmith’s. I left him there not two hours since. I went to kill him, Cherry, for what he’d done to you; and, to save his life, he sent me on to her. She’d only lain close a bit for lack of such a messenger. And I’m to say there shall be a horse waiting for you in the road by the gate.”
“Give me the rope.”
“Let me have your hand—only that. There, it’s on the floor. Put it away somewhere till I’m gone.”
He obeyed, and groped his way back to her—felt for her poor face, and took it in his hands. She stood quite passive.
“Molly, I’m not worth a thought.”
Only her low heart-rending sobs answered him.