Then he turned to his guest.
"Come, Jonas, sit down, and drink; there's no need to start for another hour."
Captain Jonas was standing in the centre of the room, hat in hand, bowing elaborately to Barbara, and ogling her the while with his great protruding eyes.
"By Jove, Protheroe!" he drawled, "is this your capture. Zounds! What a prize. You're a hard man to keep such a beauty in limbo. Best put yourself under my protection, mistress; I'll keep you safe. I'll not swear to set you free, but at least I'll wager that pretty face shall never waste in prison."
Checking swiftly an angry movement from Ralph, Barbara curtsied with quiet dignity, and moved again to her seat at the table.
"Oh, ho! a lady, eh? Who is she, Protheroe?" asked Captain Jonas in an audible whisper.
Captain Protheroe shrugged his shoulders.
"Pah! Only a rebel. Come, drink, man, and tell Us news. Where do you hail from?"
"Bridgewater! As dead and drear a hole as ever man was quartered in. Praise be to the devil we're moving on to Wells, and in a month we'll be quit o' this cursed west country, where there is neither a pretty woman—saving your presence, madame—nor a decent bottle of wine for a man to solace himself withal. I thought you were at Taunton, Protheroe!"
"I was—till yesterday. Is there no news from your way?"