"A gentleman as spoke to me, you mean!"
"The damned rogue tried to kiss you—"
"Well, what of it—I didn't let him, did I?"
"You have no business to run such risks," said I angrily, my gorge rising at memory of the fellow, "a tavern is no place for a girl—"
"Well, I can't live under a glass case!" she retorted. "And, anyway, I can take care of myself—better than you can!"
"Yes," I answered humbly, "I fear I am not a very terrible champion—Jessamy, O Jessamy, teach me how to fight!"
For answer Jessamy rose and opening his canvas bag reached thence four of those padded gloves termed 'mufflers.'
"With your uncle George's compliments!" said he, glancing at me with twinkling eyes. "And now, seeing the light's good, if you'm minded to try a round or so afore supper, why cheerily it is, messmate!"
Then, tossing aside the half-peeled potato I stripped off my coat.