"I am angry with you, Sir Peregrine, and that is why I came away."
"What, angry, my bird, with thy faithfullest, ever-lovingest servant? Be I to blame if Mistress Felton smiled so at me?"
"Oh, Mistress Felton?—let her smile, I care not. I am angry because of thy gift. A goodly gift enough, and more than I deserve; but when you knew my heart was set upon the sapphire in your Italian bonnet—"
"Why, God's love, you never said you wished it! Sure, how—"
"Never said, with my lips, no doubt. But have I not said with my eyes, gazing on it by the hour? Troth, art grown so blind—?"
"Oh, good lack, say no more, sweet! The sapphire is thine own; I'll fetch it to-morrow."
"Nay, but I wish it to-night, long for it to-night, must have it to-night; else I shall hate it, and never desire it, and throw it to a coal-carrier when you fetch it!"
"God-a-mercy! thou shalt have it to-night. 'Tis at mine inn; I'll send one of my men straightway."
"What, trust it to thy man? Such a jewel, that I have set my heart on? If he were to lose it, or be robbed of it, I should ne'er—"