“My sword,” I answered, not looking up, for my mind was busy.
“No more?”
“My horse.”
“No more?”
Her voice went so strange that I looked at her. Her eyes were dim with tears.
“Forgive, me, sweetheart,” I cried, clasping her close to me. “I have you, and, with you, more than all the world.”
“You were near to forgetting your great wealth,” she said, mockingly, while she struggled to free herself. “Perchance ’tis of little value, after all.”
“Nay, sweet,” I replied. “’Tis so great that I wonder at myself for possessing it.”
“Yet you thought of your sword first.”
“Forgive me.”