human
Well, scapegrace? he asked.
gpt
It all goes bonnily enough.
human
Ay, for Christopher, growled the other. The black mood was on him, and at these times he had no respect of persons. He was, indeed, like one possessed of an evil spirit.
gpt
Kit was a favourite always, and now he gets all errands.
human
He can keep his temper, Michael, under hardship. I’ve proved him, and I know. A soldier needs that gift.
gpt
My lad, said the Squire by and by,
human
How so? We’ve a few wounds to boast of between us, but no dead.
gpt
One of us is dying by slow stages. Jealousy is killing him, and I tell you, Michael, I’d rather see the plague among us than that other pestilence you’re nursing. The sickness will spread. When times are slack—food short and nothing to be done by way of blows—you’ll whisper in this man’s ear and in that man’s ear, and turn their blood to ice.
human
I love Christopher, he said very simply,
gpt
Ay, I know! But take this warning from me, Michael,—when the black dog’s on your shoulder, shake him off. Jealousy’s your prime failing. It will break up our company one day, if you let it.