“Oh yes, sir, ever an’ always.”
“Ah, well!” sighed Sir John. “Howbeit, child, you can assure your lady that her journey to Paris is wholly unnecessary.”
“How, sir.... Oh, d’ye mean she is ... too late? Have they fought already?”
“I mean they cannot fight, because Sir John Dering hath run away.”
“Run away ... Sir John Dering? Without fighting?” she questioned breathlessly. “Oh, ’tis impossible!”
“’Tis very truth—upon my honour.”
“You ... you are sure, sir?”
“Absolutely, child! I happen to know Sir John Dering and something of his concerns.”
“Oh ... you are ... his friend, sir?”
“Nay, hardly that, Rose,” sighed Sir John; “indeed, some might call me his most inveterate enemy.... But for Sir John Dering I might have been a ... happier man.”