'Oh, I have not said thou art his leman. I know my father. His blood is not hot—but his ears crave tickling. Tickle them whilst thou mayest. Have I stayed thee? Have I sent thee from my room when he did come?'
Katharine cast back the purple hood from over her forehead, she brushed her hand across her brow, and made herself calm.
'This is a trifling folly,' she said. 'In two words: will your Highness write me this letter?'
'Then, in four words,' Mary answered, 'my Highness cares not.'
The mobile brows above Katharine's blue eyes made a hard straight line.
'An you will not,' she brought out, 'I will leave your Highness' service. I will get me away to Calais, where my father is.'
'Why, you will never do that,' the Lady Mary said; 'you have tasted blood here.'
Katharine hung her head and meditated for a space.
'No, before God,' she said earnestly, 'I think you judge me wrong. I think I am not as you think me. I think that I do seek no ends of my own.'
The Lady Mary raised her eyebrows and snickered ironically.