“They said thou hadst a lover in the town—a vintner.”
“I never had a lover, town or country.”
Alison made round eyes. “What! no one ever asked you to wed?”
“I said not that. I said that I never had a lover.”
Alison fell to plaiting her apron, her head on one side. “Mother says that your father’s that sunk in notions of the learned that he’d never think of it, but she wonders that your uncle didn’t see fit to find you a husband.”
“Does she? Well, one wonders over one thing and one over another.”
“There are very few bachelors and marriageable men hereabouts,” said Alison, “but I suppose you’ll get that one of them you set your cap for.”
“And why do you suppose that?”
Alison, her head still on one side, looked aslant at the returned friend. “Oh, men are all for strange and new! Your tallness, now, that most people count a fault, and that colour hair and that colour eyes.... Yes, you’ll get the one you want.”