Urmston smiled in turn. "I really don't think the kind of life they led would have appealed to me."
"No," said Eveline Annersly, "you would have sat with the harp in the bower, and made love rather nicely and judiciously—that is, when circumstances were propitious."
Urmston flushed, glad he was in the shadow where Carrie could not see him. He felt, as he had felt before, that he would rather like to gag Eveline Annersly.
"Can one fall in love judiciously?" he asked.
"As a matter of fact, I'm not sure that one can. In the days we are referring to, they very seldom did. The border knights apparently put on steel cap and corselet when they went wooing. When Lochinvar rode to Netherby, he swam the Esk, and it is very probable that the men who made love in his fashion later on had their swords loose when they crossed it, whipping hard for Gretna by the lower bridge. Of course, as everybody knows, all that has gone out of fashion long ago—only I think the primitive something remains which would drive a man full tilt against circumstances for sweet love's sake. At least, one sees it now and then in the eyes of the men out here."
Urmston longed to stop her, but he had discovered on other occasions that an attempt to do so was very apt to bring about unwished-for results. He accordingly said nothing, and Carrie, who, perhaps, felt as he did, changed the subject.
"It was rather curious that the man who threw the note through the window when our neighbours were last here was able to creep up without being seen," she said.
"I can't help thinking that somebody must have seen him," said Eveline Annersly.
"Then why didn't they mention it?"
"I naturally don't know. Still, one would fancy that the outlaw found means of impressing whomever he came across with the fact that he didn't want to be announced, and that it would be wiser to fall in with his wishes. Afterwards, the man he met would no doubt feel that, as his silence wasn't altogether creditable, it would be advisable to say nothing about it."