“But,” said she, her eyes fiercely accusing, “he—murders men!”
“Not often, child,” he answered lightly.
“He fights duels!”
“But only when necessary.”
“He hath broke poor women’s hearts!”
“Only such as were cracked.”
“You are his champion, it seems?”
“Because he hath none other—a poor, lonely dog with a bad name, child, a solitary creature for the kicks and buffets o’ the world! Doth not your woman’s heart yearn to such?”
But instead of answering she clasped his arm in sudden terror.
“Look!” she whispered. “There’s something there ... moving in the shadows—a man!”