“When was that?”
“The night I caught you at the gate. You said, 'I had rather have one of those dumb brutes for company than thee, Walter Evesham.' You said it in the fiercest little voice. Even the 'thee' sounded as if you hated me.”
“I did,” said Dorothy promptly. “I had reason to.”
“Do you hate me now, Dorothy?”
“Not so much as I did then.”
“What an implacable little Quaker you are.”
“A tyrant is always hated,” said Dorothy, trying to release her hands.
“If you will look in my eyes, Dorothy, and call me by my name, just once, I'll let 'thee' go.”
“Walter Evesham,” said Dorothy, with great firmness and decision.
“No, that won't do! You must look at me, and say it softly, in a little sentence, Dorothy.”