CHAPTER XXIX
A DEAL
WHEN Zita was beyond earshot, she looked over her shoulder, and said to Drownlands, 'I call that mean.'
She walked on, then halted, changed her hand on the bridle, and, gazing about, said, 'You could free yourself of him in no other fashion, so you swear his life away. But you have to reckon with me before it comes to that. I will go into court and swear against you. What I shall swear to will be the truth; your oath will bind you to lies.'
'I refuse to strive with you in words,' retorted Drownlands. 'A woman is always victor with such weapons.'
'What? you prefer flails?—those are your weapons,' exclaimed Zita, clenching her fist and holding her arm extended before her. 'I know well why you are set against Mark Runham. You think that he is something in some way to me, and that I am much to him. It is because of this that you pursue him. It is because of me that you twist the rope round his throat. But you are wrong altogether. I will not say that Mark is nothing to me. He was kind to me once; kind when my heart was tender, because my father was just buried. But I am nothing to Mark. He mocks at me. He sneers and laughs at the Cheap Jack girl. He does not love me; and, moreover, he is bound to another.'
'Mark bound to another? Who is that?'
'Nay, it is his affair, and he has not given me leave to tell his secrets. But you may guess.'