"Have your own way, Dorothy," I said. "There lives not, I hope, another woman in the world so unreasoning and perverse as you."
She tossed her head contemptuously and continued to comb her hair.
"How, suppose you," I asked, addressing Dorothy's back, as if I were seeking information, "how, suppose you, the Rutland people learned that John was confined in the Haddon dungeon, and how did they come by the keys?"
The girl turned for a moment, and a light came to her anger-clouded face as the rainbow steals across the blackened sky.
"Malcolm, Malcolm," she cried, and she ran to me with her bare arms outstretched.
"Did you liberate him?" she asked. "How did you get the keys?"
"I know nothing of it, Dorothy, nothing," I replied.
"Swear it, Malcolm, swear it," she said.
"I will swear to nothing," I said, unclasping her arms from my neck.
"Then I will kiss you," she answered, "for you are my dear good brother, and never so long as I live will I again doubt you."