"What is it, then?--besides the fact that I am Roger Ireton's son?"

"I think 'twas what you said to Mr. Pengarvin."

"That little smirking wretch? What has he to say or do in this?"

She looked away from me and said: "He is my father's factor and man of
affairs."

"Ah, I have always to be craving your pardon, Margery. But I said naught
to this parchment-faced--to this Mr. Pengarvin, that might offend your
father, or any."

"How, then, will you explain this, that you swore to drive my father
from Appleby Hundred as soon as ever you had raised a following among
the rebels?"

"'Tis easily explained: this thrice-accursed--oh, pardon me again, I
pray you; I will not name him any name at all. What I meant to say was
that he lied. I made no threats to him; to tell the plain truth, I was
too fiercely mad to bandy words with him."

"What made you mad, Monsieur John?"

"'Twas his threat to me--to taint me with my father's outlawry. Do you
greatly blame me, Margery?"

"No."