She crossed impatiently to the door, and would have left him, but he checked her with a rough laugh.
"Wast over eager, cousin, to hear the Lean Man's purpose toward Wayne of Marsh," he said. "Say, is it true—what they whisper up and down the country-side—that thou wert friendly to this Wayne the Shameless?"
"And if I were, sir, what is't to thee?" she flashed, turning round to him.
"What is't to me? Shall I tell thee again, girl, that I've sworn to wed thee?"
"And shall I answer again that I will wed thee when apple-trees grow——?"
"The Lean Man has bidden me prosper with my suit."
"I shall persuade him otherwise."
"Wilt thou?" he snarled. "Even if I tell him what gossip has to say of thee and Shameless Wayne?"
Her face took that firmness that mention of Wayne's name never failed to bring there. "Thou darest not tell him," she said; "for then thou would'st be sure I would never look thy way again."
The shaft aimed true, for Red Ratcliffe's passion for his cousin had grown to fever-heat during these latter days. Finding no answer, he watched her go out by the door that led to the garden; and then he turned on his heel and passed through the hall, meaning to saddle his horse forthwith and ride down to Marshcotes on his errand.