“You’ll have to play a double part.”
“Twice tenpence is two and sixpence, George. It ought to pay me.”
“It ought and shall, if you’re clever. Help me to bring about a thing I much desire, and your fortunes, as I promised, shall be made my care.”
He questioned the young uplifted face. Her hands were still held in his.
“Was the thing born a girl?” she said. He laughed, but did not answer, and she seemed to muse, her lids lowered. “What a pretty gentleman you are, George!” she said absently, by and by. “I never guessed at first, when you came that unhandsome off the road, what fine clothes could make of you. Why are you going to take me to the haberdasher’s?”
“To prink you out for great company, child.”
She looked up breathlessly.
“Not the King’s!”
“All in good time,” he said—“if you please me.”
“Well,” she said, looking down again, “I’ll do my best—saving my honour. Will that please you?”