"In the future you will not thrust yourself upon Mees Durrell."
"Why not?"
"Because she does not desire it."
"Did she tell you so?"
"And because I forbid it."
"That hardly convinces me."
A common instinct made both men leave their horses standing and face each other in the lane. The days of the wearing of the small sword had passed. But men who are angry can quarrel without swords.
"So you have my orders, Meester Benham."
"I return them. On second thoughts I feel inclined to throw you and them into the nearest ditch."
"Sir!"