"I am châtelaine of Summer House," said she, "and need render no account of my inclinations to you or to any man. Who would learn for himself what is in my mind must court me civilly and in good order.... Do you desire leave to court me, Nick?"
"Not I!—to be beaten by a besom and flouted and mocked to boot! Nenni, my pretty lass! I have had my mouthful of blows."
"Oh. And your comrade? Is he, do you think, inclined to court me?"
"Jack Drogue?"
"The same."
"You have bedeviled him," said Nick sulkily, "as you have witched all men who encounter you. He hath a fever and is sick of it."
She was slicing hot johnnycake with a knife in the pan; and now looked up at him with eyes full of curiosity.
"Bewitched him? I?"
"Surely. Who else, then?"
"You are jesting, Nick."