human
My faith, sir, she said tartly,
gpt
Miss Grant is with you?
human
Oh, yes. The most wonderful maid that ever came to Ripley—her eyes like stars—she feeds on thistledown.
gpt
You are pleased to jest,
human
Not so hasty, by your leave. You’ve a message for this girl who sups on moonbeams?
gpt
Tell her that I wish her very well.
human
I shall tell her nothing of the kind, my lad. D’ye want to win her? Then I shall tell her you were thinking of the wars—that, when I asked if you had any message, you seemed to have forgotten her. I shall make much of that ugly scar across your face—taken yesterday, by the look of it—and hazard that you may live a week, with some good luck to help you.
gpt
You’ve no heart,
human
An older heart than yours—that is all. I have lived through your sort of moonlight, and found the big sun shining on the hill-top. My man went out to the wars, and I—I would not have him back just yet for all the gold in Christendom. Absence is teaching me so much.
gpt
I need her. You do not understand.
human
Tut-tut! You’ll have to wait till you’ve proved your needing. She looked at the Castle front, saw a star of light flicker and grow clear in a window on the left.
gpt
That is her room, Sir Love-too-well, she said, with the gentlest laugh.
human
When you are weary of guarding the Castle, glance up and picture her yonder, sipping dew, with all the fairies waiting on her.
gpt
I thank you, said Kit, with childish gravity.
human
I shall know where to look when all else in Ripley seems drab and tawdry.
gpt
Your son is no courtier, Mr. Metcalf,
human
He was not bred that way. I licked him into shape.
gpt
And yet he is a courtier. He loves well. Only, by your leave, defend my gate against all women from the Yoredale country. I’ve Joan Grant here, and her maid Pansy, and between them they’re turning our men’s wits. Two pretty women can always outflank a troop of horse.