"Brown," said the vintner.

Gretchen took up the empty tankard and made off. The eyes of the two men
followed her till she reached the dim bar, then their glances swung
round and met. Carmichael was first to speak, not because he was forced
to, but because it was his fancy at that moment to give the vintner the
best of it.

"She is a fine girl."

"Yes," tentatively.

"She is the handsomest peasant I ever saw or knew."

"You know her?" There was a spark in the vintner's eyes.

"Only for a few days. She interests me." Carmichael produced a pipe and
lighted it.

"Ah, yes, the pretty peasant girl always interests you gentlemen." There
was a note of bitterness. "Did you come here to seek her?"

"This is the first time I ever saw her here. And let me add," evenly,
"that my interest in her is not of the order you would infer. She is
good and patient and brave, and my interest in her is impersonal. It is
not necessary for me to make any explanations, but I do so."

"Pardon me!" The vintner was plainly abashed.

"Granted. But you, you seem to possess a peculiar interest."