"You perceive that you are rehabilitating the penalty," he remarked dryly, and I could see he did not credit me, which made me angrier.
"By the Lord," said I, "I have the honour to tell ye that the young muckworm rumpadded me in my chaise just as you were come up—damme, he did, if it were not that I turned his barkers on him."
Sir Damon eyed me and then all of a sudden broke out into soft laughter, as if he were greatly tickled.
"Is't so?" said he. "The Lord love him for a simpleton! Faith, I could forgive—" He chuckled quietly, and then looked at me again, still smiling.
"You know, sir, what penalty menaces them that abduct or hold a ward from her guardian?"
"'Tis a guardian I have abducted from his ward," said I.
He laughed quietly. "Very well," said he, "let us leave it at that." And then, "You know, sir, what a fool the fool is?"
"He is no tobyman," said I.
"'Tis commensurate with his life in general," said Sir Damon, easily. "He is born Tom-fool and has two handsome, dancing eyes." He paused. "I will not maintain," says he next, "that for happiness wisdom is necessary, or even adequate. I have not found it so myself, nor perhaps you, friend—Captain?"
"In that case," says I, "repay a fool with his folly, which is marriage."