"Thou dost treat it lightly," she reproached him, her eyes veiled, "but it is of serious import to—to Nechutes."
"Nay, I shall hold my tongue. I efface myself and intercede for him, and thou dost call it exulting. And when I am fallen from thy favor there will be none to plead my cause, none to hide her misty eyes with contrite lashes."
"Mine eyes are not misty," she retorted.
"Thou hast said," he admitted, in apology. "It was not a happy term.
I meant bejeweled with repentant dew."
She shook her little finger at him.
"If thou dost persist in thy calumny of me, thou mayest come to test thy dismal augury," she warned.
He dropped his eyes and his mouth drooped dolorously.
"I come for comfort, and I get Nechutes and all the unpropitious possibilities that his name suggests."
"Comfort? Thou, in trouble? Thou, the light-hearted?" she laughed.
"Nay; I am discontented, but I might as well hope to heave the skies away with my shoulders as to rebel against mine oppression. So I came to be petted into submission."