But as he waited for an answer, she stammered, “Ay, a great deal an it please you.”
“Aught to my discredit?” The Spaniard spoke sharply and frowned.
“Oh, nay, sir, nay.” Anny spoke hastily as she noted his displeasure. “Rather the other way.”
A smile spread over the man’s face for a moment, and he looked at her.
“Yet, mistress, you refused my gifts,” he said softly.
An expression of pain passed over the girl’s face but she said steadily: “Ay, sir. And I would not have any one think I would take them. Methinks you mistake me, sir,” she added proudly.
The Spaniard did not speak; he sat looking at her steadfastly without moving his position, his glittering deep black eyes fixed on her face, and an inscrutable expression on his lips.
Anny did not look up, and at last the Spaniard leaned back in his seat, new interest in his face and a twinkle of pleasure in his eyes.
“Mistress, you mistake me,” he said gently. “Believe me I never thought you aught but a maiden as fair in reputation as in face. What villain can have read anything else but pure admiration in my small offerings to you?”
Anny looked up quickly, her face glowing with confusion. She thought angrily of Hal’s outburst and opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment her eye caught the Spaniard’s white hand playing with the hilt of his knife, and she looked at him again, as he sat smiling at her, his full red lips curled back a little, showing the white teeth within.