"And bread?"
"I have money."
"Then we ride for Gilderoy?"
The assumption was made with an excellent unction that betrayed the seeming sincerity of the philosopher. Yeoland stared ahead over her horse's ears, with a clear disregard for Jaspar and his discretion.
"We are like leaves blown about in autumn," she said to him, "wanderers with fortune. You have not grasped my temper. I warrant you, there is method in me."
Jaspar looked blank.
"Strange method, madame, to ride nowhere, to compass nothing."
She turned on him with a sudden rapid gleam out of her passionate eyes.
"Nothing! You call revenge nothing?"
The harper appealed to his favourite saint.