'I am tired of perpetual tears,' he muttered, and looked up the perspective of stable walls and white rails as if he would hurry away.
She said desperately: 'You will meet with tears perpetual so long as this man....'
He lifted his hand, clenched right over his head.
'By God,' he bayed, 'may I never rest from cat and dog quarrels? I will not hear you. It is to drive a man mad when most he needs solace.'
He jerked himself down from the rail and shot over his shoulder:
'You will break your head if you run against a wall; I will have you in gaol ere night fall.' And he seemed to push her backward with his great hand stretched out.
IX
'Why, sometimes,' Throckmorton said, 'a very perfect folly is like a very perfect wisdom.' He sat upon her table. 'So it is in this case, he did send for me. No happening could have been more fortunate.'
He had sent away the man from her door and had entered without any leave, laughing ironically in his immense fan-shaped beard.
'Your ladyship thought to have stolen a march upon me,' he said. 'You could have done me no better service.'