“It was very improper, Sieur des Ormeaux. Yes, indeed, I have forgotten every one of them.”
“You have not thought of me, and I have lived on thoughts of you. I hoped to ennoble myself in your eyes—and you are thrown in my way to turn me mad at the last instant!”
“Forgive my misfortune which throws me in your way, monsieur,” she said sedately. “I am driven here a fugitive.”
“From what?” Dollard’s hand caught the hilt of his sword.
“From something very unpleasant. In fact, from marriage.”
His face cleared, and he laughed aloud with satisfaction.
“Do you hate marriage?”
“I detest it.”
“You came to live under the bishop’s protection?”