"You cannot give me my price," said the Red Smith.
She took from her girdle the little purse containing all her store. "Do you think I am here to bargain? There's more than your price."
"However much it be," said Harding, "it is too little."
"Then say no more that I cannot buy of you, but rather that you will not sell to me."
"And yet that is as the Proud Rosalind shall please."
She flushed deeply, and as though in shame of seeming ashamed said firmly, "No, Smith, it is not in my hands. For I have offered you every penny I possess."
"I do not ask for pence." Harding left his anvil and stepped outside and stood close, gazing hard upon her face. "You have a thing I will take in exchange for my sword, a very simple thing. Women part with it most lightly, I have learned. The loveliest hold it cheap at the price of a golden gawd. How easily then will you barter it for an inch or so of steel!"
"What need of so many words?" she said with a scornful lip, that quivered in her own despite at his nearness. "Name the thing you want."
"A kiss from your mouth, Proud Rosalind."
It was as though the request had turned her into ice. When she could speak she said, "Smith, for your inch of steel you have asked what I would not part with to ransom my soul."