“No, sir, of course not, no, sir!” she lied vehemently. “Let go my wrist, sir. Marry, how you hurt me!”
“This great hulking French, now, have you set your heart on him? Speak out, girl!”
“No, sir, of course not!” Anny’s amazement was too genuine to be mistaken.
“Yet you will not marry me?” Dick spoke sharply.
“No—no—no, sir! Go away!”
Dick turned on his heel and went to the door.
“By this knife,” he said, turning on the threshold, “you shall come with me. I wish it, and never yet have I been prevented from my desires.”
“Lord! you’re mad!” Anny flung after him.
“Ay, mad for you, mistress.”
Dick’s voice had grown soft again and he laughed unpleasantly as he strolled off down the yard. Anny watched him go and then turned back to her work.