"What can it matter to you?" she said passionately. "I will not take your lands; I will not rob you."
She looked so pretty in her anger, with her tear-stained face and ruffled hair, still such a child.
"Nevertheless I am sorry," he said, "for I have come to ask you to be my wife; and the king has promised to knight me Sir Reginald De Lisle if I win you."
"I cannot be your wife," she answered slowly. "I am too young; and then there is Aunt Patience. You must be Sir Reginald something else."
"I will not be Sir anything, unless I am Sir Reginald De Lisle, and you knight me," he answered.
She shook her head. "I tell you, you can't. I will not have the land."
He put his arm round her, turned her face up to his, and looked into her eyes. "Now, tell me you do not love me, my little sweetheart," he said.
Evidently she could not so answer him, for a smile broke over her face.
"Yes or no, Agnes?" he asked softly.
A short gasp and then a timid "Yes", and he would have kissed her, but she slipped away from him and stood at the farther end of the room.