“I’m sorry,” he said, changing his weight from one foot to the other and his hands becoming noticeable and awkward.
Sue only sighed impatiently and busied herself with the rum.
French turned on his heel.
“All’s well then,” he said finally. “I’ll be getting down West. I reckon I knows when I’m welcome or not, Mistress—Mistress Susan Gilbot,” and he strode to the door. “There’s other inns,” he said meaningly.
Sue turned about in a moment.
“Oh, wait for your rum, Master French,” she said.
French did not move but stood straddle-legged in the doorway looking out into the yard.
“Rum? Oh, that don’t matter; an inn’s got more uses than just to sell rum, mistress,” he said.
“Indeed, to provide wenches for any man to insult, I reckon,” said Sue, tossing her head and dashing her hand across her eyes.
French turned round quickly.