“Wilt thou h-have me?” he cried.
And half laughing, half crying, she asked him:
“Who art thou?”
“Please God, I am him thou lovest,” he answered; “Which is he?”
She let him take her hands again.
“I know not,” she whispered. “But if 't is the peddler, I love him for Stephen's sake,—and if 't is Stephen, for the peddler's sake I love him.”
CHAPTER X
The Poets Sing to Richard
HEN Stephen had brought Calote safe out of Kent to the door of the cot on Cornhill, they kissed the one the other and went their ways.