‘Is the patriot to be in the secret?’ asked Raleigh.
Brion shook his head. ‘He hath never heard our names coupled by me. Thou art the only one who knows of her, Walter.’ He had been invited to that familiarity by the companionable soldier.
Raleigh looked pleased. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘I’ll not say I’m flattered till I’ve proved myself.’
‘Walter’—his eyes desperately coaxed: ‘you’ll not tell me anything, I know.’
‘Not a word.’
‘Not of how she appeared to you?’
‘She appeared to me walking on two feet, like any other woman.’
‘Ah! but is she not beautiful?’
‘Beauty, my friend’—he was drinking again, as if to avoid a direct encounter with the look which sought his—‘is in the eyes which perceive it.’
‘Well, did not yours perceive it?’