“An’ supposin’ I did I’d maybe have no fancy for repeatin’ of ’em,” retorted the lady with a faint increase of colour in her sallow cheeks. “He’d had a drop too much, Trooper Willcocks had, and he did give I a lot of impidence. I didn’t take no notice of ’em—he did make I laugh at the time I d’ ’low, but—”
Cross pricked up his ears. Anne’s admission denoted that the impression produced by the warrior had been even greater than he had supposed, for she was not as a rule given to seeing the humorous side of things.
“’Tis this way, d’ye see,” he said, insinuatingly. “If we can prove as Trooper Willcocks went beyond a certain p’int in his lovin’ speeches we can take a action again him.”
“An’ what ’ud be the good o’ that?”
“Wait a bit, Miss, wait a bit!” said Samuel, sawing the air again with his lean forefinger. “We can take a action again him, as I say, what will force him either to lead you to the altar or to pay you a substantial sum of money as damages.”
A slow smile broke over Anne’s ill-favoured face.
“D’ye mean him an’ me ’ud have to get married?” she inquired.
“Either that or, supposin’ the villain wasn’t willin’—an’ he is a villain, Miss Clarke, a low deceivin’ rascal—he’d have to put his hand in his pocket and fork out, Miss. Either way, d’ye see, you’d be the gainer. But all depends upon your memory. Now, in confidence, Miss Clarke, in strict confidence to a honourable man, tell me, what did Trooper Willcocks say to you?”
“He called I a beauty two or three times,” returned Anne, after cogitating for a moment.
“Ah,” said Cross, “a—a nat’ral remark of course, but not compromising. He said more than that, I’m sure, Miss Clarke.”