"Nay," replied Kingswell, "there is more harm done to the innocent in courts and fine assemblies, and at the sheltered card-tables, than on all the battle-fields of the world. War is a good surgeon, and, if he sometimes lets the good blood with the bad, why, that's just a risk we must accept."
Beatrix raised a flushed face, and eyed him squarely. "You preach like a Puritan," she said, "with your condemnation of courts and play. You should give my father the benefit of some of your wisdom. His friends have all been generous with such help."
Kingswell bit his lip, and for an awkward minute studied the toes of his moccasins. Presently he looked up.
"I am sorry," he said.
Her glance softened.
"I am as ignorant of battle-fields as I am of courts," he added. "I am ignorant of everything."
His voice was low and bitter. Beatrix laughed softly.
"Pray do not take it so much to heart," she said. "Nothing is so easily mended as ignorance."
He looked at her gravely.
"I am going to ask Sir Ralph to give me lessons in French sword-play," he said. "Is there nothing that you would teach me?"