“Most of them are,” said Steve.
“Huh,” grunted Jack, “if we believe all we see an’ ’ear you ain’t scared enough of ’em to keep away from ’em.”
“No,” said Steve, lightly; “but I’m scared enough to keep outside the cage they’re in. When you’re married you’re inside the bars, and can’t get away if you want to.”
“D’you ever tell your girls all these things you think o’ them?” asked Thompson.
“I do,” said Steve, promptly, “and a lot more I don’t think of them. And, mostly, they don’t believe I mean what I really think of them, and do believe the lies I tell them. That sounds a bit mixed, but I mean they usually believe the lies and disbelieve the truth.”
“Rot,” said Gunliffe. “I reckon a woman can spot a lie quicker ’n a man.”
“Yes, when she wants to,” said Steve, “but—she doesn’t always want to.”
“If I felt like you, Fly-by-Night,” said Darby the Bull, “I’d run a mile if I saw a pretty girl comin’.”
“If you were like me,” said Steve, laughingly, rising and stretching himself, “you’d run many miles—to meet her. Be glad you’re not like me.”
“I am,” said Darby, so simply and earnestly that the others roared with laughter, and Steve Knight winced in the darkness, though his laugh rang as loud as any.