She sat up smartly. "Come," said she, "come; if you will venture it with the Countess, I will with Ware."
He smiled. "I thought you gave me a year wherein to prove my stupidity."
"But would it be stupidity—might it not be rare brilliancy—a master stroke?" She flashed the rings again. "Lord Darby would risk it were he in like case."
"Nay, Darby is no fool."
"True enough—yet, neither is he afraid to brave the hazard; he is a hard fighter, in love as well as war."
"I find no fault with him for that," De Lacy answered, "so long as he fight fair."
She gave him a quick glance of interrogation.
"Would you trust him to fight fair?" she asked.
"I usually trust every man of noble birth until experience prove him undeserving."
"And you have had no experience with Darby?"