“Well, I won’t,” said Pen, holding on to it firmly. “It is not at all heavy, and you have your portmanteau to carry already. Besides, I feel more like a man every moment. What shall we do when we reach the inn?”
“Order supper.”
“Yes, and after that?”
“Go to bed.”
Pen considered this. “You don’t think we should set forward on our journey at once?”
“Certainly not. We shall go to bed like Christians, and in the morning we shall hire a conveyance to carry us to Queen Charlton. A private conveyance,” he added.
“But—”
“Pen Creed,” said Sir Richard calmly, “you cast me for the role of bear-leader, and I accepted it. You drew a revolting picture of me which led everyone in that coach to regard me in the light of a persecutor of youth. Now you are reaping the harvest of your own sowing.”
She laughed. “Are you going to persecute me?”
“Horribly!” said Sir Richard.