"If you speak of friendship, who can be angered?" asked Daniel. "What delicate subject should you have to speak to me about?"
"The tenderest a man can touch to a neighbour. But from pure goodwill I speak it. You'll judge that when you hear me. A man doesn't strain friendship and say ticklish things for fun. 'Tis only out of kind feeling for you and Sarah Jane that I'm going to say it."
"Better leave her out," said Daniel. "Her welfare's the same as mine. She've not got any good away from my good. If you do me a friendly turn, you'll be doing the same to she."
"I can't leave her out. She's the matter."
Brendon stopped and stared.
"What be you talking about?"
"About Sarah Jane. There it is. I told you 'twas a delicate matter. If you won't stand it, I'll leave it alone."
"Go on," said Brendon shortly. His voice had changed, and Weekes noticed it.
"Don't be angry for nought. It's a free country, and I've a right to my opinions, I suppose. I say again, 'twas a great act of friendship in me to touch this thing at all; but if you're going to take it in an evil spirit, I'll stop. 'Tis no better than the old saying of Lydford Law—when they hanged a man first and tried him afterwards—for you to speak in that tone of voice, and command me to go on, as if I was a servant and you the master."
"What do you want, then?"