I pray let me be!
If ever I love a man,
The master for me!”
A dull flush overspread his face. “Go your way!” he said.
“Ay, I’ll go!” Bess replied. “And so will she!”
In pin, out trout!
Three’s a meal and one’s nought!
“One’s nought! One’s nought!” she continued to carol.
And laughing ironically, she went up the road—not without looking back once or twice to enjoy a surprise which was only exceeded by the chaplain’s wrath. What did the girl know? And what was it to her? A common gipsy drab such as she, how did she come to guess these things? And where the joint lay at which to aim the keen shafts of her wit?
CHAPTER XXVII
BISHOP CAUGHT NAPPING
“I will not do it! I will not do it!” Those had been Clyne’s last words on the subject; uttered and repeated with a heat which proved that, in coming to this decision, he fought against his own heart as much as against her arguments. “I will not do it! But do you,” with something of his former violence, “tell me where he is! Tell me at once, and I will go and question him.”