"And I--I likes you in your new clothes, though
I wish you had your curls back again because--"
"How came you at the inn with that man?" I demanded suddenly.
"I had been selling my last few baskets."
"And he saw you?"
"Yes."
"And spoke to you?"
"Yes."
"And he--tried to--kiss you, I suppose?"
"Yes--but what's it matter; don't let's talk of it any more,
Peregrine."
"And did he kiss you--did he?" At this she began to frown. "Did he
kiss you, Diana--answer me?"
"I'll not!" said she, setting her chin.
"Ah, but you shall!"
"Oh, but I won't! Who are you to question me so?"
"Tell me, or by God I'll make you!"
"Ah, don't talk, you couldn't--no, not if--" I seized her, wrenched
and swung her down across my knees (careless alike in my sudden frenzy
of fallen reins, of danger or death itself) and having her thus
helpless, set my hand about her soft, round throat.
"By God!" I gasped, "but you shall tell me, Diana; you shall tell me
if he dared sully you with his vile touch--speak--speak!"
And now as I glared down at her I saw her eyes grow wide and suddenly
fearful.
"Oh, Peregrine," she whispered. "Don't--don't look at me so--as if you
hated me--don't, ah, don't!" And then, oh, wonder of wonders! Her arms
were about my neck, drawing me lower and lower until her soft cheek
met mine and, clasping me thus, she spoke under her breath:
"He didn't. Peregrine--he didn't! No man shall ever kiss me in line
except--just--one!"
"Who?" I questioned, grasping her to me.
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