'Hundreds of them, Mr. Beamish !'

'That is a holocaust of squires reduced to make an incense for me, though
you have not performed Druid rites and packed them in gigantic osier
ribs. Be philosophical, but accept your personal dues. Grant us ours
too. I have a serious intention to preserve this young duchess, and I
expect my task to be severe. I carry the banner aforesaid; verily and
penitentially I do. It is an error of the vulgar to suppose that all is
dragon in the dragon's jaws.'

'Men are his fangs and claws.'

'Ay, but the passion for his fiery breath is in woman. She will take her
leap and have her jump, will and will! And at the point where she will
and she won't, the dragon gulps and down she goes! However, the business
is to keep our buttercup duchess from that same point. Is she near?'

'I can see her,' said Chloe.

Beau Beamish requested a sketch of her, and Chloe began: 'She is
ravishing.'

Upon which he commented, 'Every woman is ravishing at forty paces, and
still more so in imagination.'

'Beautiful auburn hair, and a dazzling red and white complexion, set in a
blue coif.'

'Her eyes?'