"Unless you plead for him, sweet one?" said Gunn.
The girl looked at her father again, but he turned his head away and tapped on the floor with his foot. Then in perplexity, akin to tears, she walked from the room, carefully drawing her dress aside as Gunn held the door for her.
"A fine girl," said Gunn, his thin lips working; "a fine spirit. 'Twill be pleasant to break it; but she does not know who is master here."
"She is young yet," said the other, hurriedly.
"I will soon age her if she looks like that at me again," said Gunn. "By —, I'll turn out the whole crew into the street, and her with them, an' I wish it. I'll lie in my bed warm o' nights and think of her huddled on a doorstep."
His voice rose and his fists clenched, but he kept his distance and watched the other warily. The innkeeper's face was contorted and his brow grew wet. For one moment something peeped out of his eyes; the next he sat down in his chair again and nervously fingered his chin.
"I have but to speak," said Gunn, regarding him with much satisfaction, "and you will hang, and your money go to the Crown. What will become of her then, think you?"
The other laughed nervously.
"'Twould be stopping the golden eggs," he ventured.
"Don't think too much of that," said Gunn, in a hard voice. "I was never one to be baulked, as you know."