“You have saved me from cutting a butcher’s throat. You must go back, child, and see the tilting.”
She looked at him steadily, and her eyes were within a cubit’s breadth of his.
“What will you do?” she asked.
He was sitting round-shouldered in the saddle, staring sullenly towards the lists. Suddenly his eyes brightened. He gave a short cry. Tiphaïne felt his right arm tighten about her.
“I have it; I have it.”
She looked at him questioningly.
“Well?”
“Wait, and you shall see.”
He put her gently from him, and, swinging her to one side, let her drop lightly on the grass.
“Go back, child,” he said, looking older and more sure of himself of a sudden. “I have a plan. Go back, and God bless you.”