"I would sit up. Fear not; you have done your will with me."
"There is spirit in this wench," said I, and I fetched her up on the mare's crupper, where she sat, gaping out into the night.
"You go by blind ways," said she next. "This is not the road."
"Why," said I, "no, or that dulcet voice of yours would call louder than I like. You may squeal, my pretty," says I, "but you are bound upon what path your legs should go."
"And what path is that?" she asked soberly.
"'Tis where all women walk," I answered with a chuckle. "They know the road. I have seen 'em ride that way in troops."
"You have a generous knowledge of the sex," says she after a pause.
"I ha' been in many circumstances," said I, "and I know a stark wench—also, mark ye, I know when one kicks that would be fain."
"I think you mistake me, sir," said she with dignity. "But whither are we set?"