“It’s to play with fire for the sake of romance, and when have we done aught else? Get you into a hoop and petticoats, and play with your mountain.”
“Ah now, will you ha’ done, sir?” John put down the coat, scowling. “You’ll do no such thing, Miss Prue!”
“Not I. Robin, one single mischance, and you’re sped.”
“My dear, you grow fearful of shadows. Let be. Tomorrow I shall be again the demure Miss Merriot.”
Prudence knew too well that demon of perversity to attempt further argument. My Lady Lowestoft’s voice begged permission to enter. Prudence turned, and opened the door. “Oh, come in, ma’am, here’s a piece of mad folly for you to see.”
My lady came in all curiosity, and gave a little shriek of laughter at sight of Robin. “Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, you vaurien!” she said. “This is to go a-wooing, no? Don’t tell me! Me, I know well!”
“It’s to run a thousand dangers,” said Prudence. “The devil’s in him, I believe.”
Robin was busy fixing a diamond pin in the lace at his throat. “I pledge you my word I run no risk, Prue. The waistcoat, John.”
“He, but this is adventure!” cried my lady, her eyes sparkling. “You are anxious, my Prue? But no! Who should suspect? He may vanish before the unmasking, and Marthe shall be on the watch to let him into the house. It will all go well, I promise you.”
“Madam, you’re a jewel!” Robin told her, struggling into his coat. He shook out his ruffles, and gave his neck-cloth a twist. “I am myself again.”