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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The White Company"

"It was my rough words which vexed you; but I have
been thrown among men all my life, and indeed, with all the will,
I scarce know how to temper my speech to a lady's ear."
"Then unsay it," cried she quickly; "say that I was right to wish
to have vengeance on the Socman."
"Nay, I cannot do that," he answered gravely.
"Then who is ungentle and unkind now?" she cried in triumph.
"How stern and cold you are for one so young! Art surely no mere
clerk, but bishop or cardinal at the least. Shouldst have
crozier for staff and mitre for cap. Well, well, for your sake I
will forgive the Socman and take vengeance on none but on my own
wilful self who must needs run into danger's path. So will that
please you, sir?"
"There spoke your true self," said he; "and you will find more
pleasure in such forgiveness than in any vengeance."
She shook her head, as if by no means assured of it, and then
with a sudden little cry, which had more of surprise than of joy
in it, "Here is Bertrand with the horses!"
Down the glade there came a little green-clad page with laughing
eyes, and long curls floating behind him.


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