“You can’t, Harilek.”
“I’ll wager you a pair of new riding-gloves that I can. A pair of gloves to—what shall I say?—to a piece of that mauve ribbon you wear.”
“What ribbon? Oh!” She very hurriedly adjusted the shoulder of her dress.
“Will you take the bet?”
“And who’s to say if you read them right? If I am not sure, who else is going to be?”
“You shall be judge. If I read them right, you will be able to untie the knots. Is it a bet?”
She considered. “Yes. I want a pair of gloves.”
“You’re very sure of winning?”
“Of course I am. Go on, magician.”
“Well, at present you’re thinking of the war.”