"You are a world too good for me."
"Troth, I am not good in all eyes. Sir Peregrine is glad to be rid of me, and Master Holyday will not have me."
"I am penniless."
"My uncle hath said he would provide for me."
Ravenshaw looked at Uncle Bartlemy, who had been calming his wife's wonder. The old gentleman, with a fine attempt at hidden meaning, thus delivered himself:
"Sir, I owe you much upon the score of our first meeting—whereof you spoke awhile ago. If you can be content here in the country, with a wing of our poor house, while we live—'twill all be Millicent's when we are buried—"
Ravenshaw felt her hand steal into his; he turned and took her gently in his arms.
Master Holyday, having come to an adjustment with his father, callously interrupted this embrace with the words, "Give me back my puppet-play now, and I'll wish you joy, and pardon all my calamities, even this dress."
Ravenshaw drew forth the manuscript from his doublet, saying: "If you return to your father's house, we are like to be your neighbours. And your friend Sir Nicholas shall earn a fee in spite of you."