“Oh, we women, lording, can be of use.”
He repeated the words, looking at Denise.
“To Lewes?”
Marpasse grimaced.
“God knows, we shall be walking on hot bricks,” she said; “but then, this blue gown, and this face of mine, are better than passwords.”
Aymery’s eyes were still upon Denise, as though waiting for one word or look from her. He could not see that she was as passionately mute as he was, and that a spasm of self-consciousness held her in thrall.
Marpasse broke in, feeling the silence like thorns in her flesh.
“I can do without her, lording. Listen to me, Golden-head. They shall put me within a mile of Lewes town, and wait in the woods for any news that I can gather. You need not play the moth to the candle.”
Marpasse saw Aymery’s eyes flash something at her that made her less uneasy. The judgment lay with Denise. They looked at her and waited.
Denise looked at neither. She hid everything, nor was there a ripple of emotion about her mouth.