“No, no! Not that! Not that! I mean . . .”
The man let her go instantly.
For a moment Audrey stood, with her hand to her heart, breathing uncertainly.
Then—
“What a beautiful courtyard,” she said. “Will you go and unfasten the door? And I’ll come on.”
A week toiled by, during which the two met hardly at all.
Then one morning a sweet-smelling note arrived at Christopher’s lodging before he was up. . . .
That evening found them both on the sward before Domesday Mill.
“The Lord of the Manor,” said Audrey, “has a pretty wit.”