"Nor that you were really a sweet-tempered and charming demoiselle," Sir Aymer answered good-naturedly. She laughed merrily. "One might think I were jealous of the Countess?" "Yes . . . or of the Earl of Ware." "Or of all the others who hang about her," she added. De Lacy looked down at her with an amused smile. "Methinks Ware is enough," he said, with calm assertion. She tossed her head in quick defiance. "Your penetration, Sir Aymer, is extraordinary--when it concerns others," she retorted. "And when it concerns myself?" She answered with a shrug. He went over and leaned on the casement beside her. "Just how stupid am I?" he asked. She turned and measured him with slow eyes. "I am not sure it is stupidity," she remarked; "some might call it modesty." He laughed. "And which does the Lady Mary Percy call it?" "I can tell you better a year hence." "Why so long a wait?" "You will then have won or lost the Countess." He shook his head dubiously. "How will that decide the matter?" he asked. She smiled. "Because only stupidity can lose." He looked at her curiously and in silence, a quicker beat at his pulse and she read his thoughts. "Oh, I am betraying no confidences," she said. "Your lady gives none--save possibly to the Duchess. But I have been of the Household with Beatrix for two years and------" "And . . . what?" he inflected. "You can guess the rest--if you are not stupid," she said, turning away. But he stayed her. "My barge is at the landing. Shall we follow . . . the others?" he suggested. She hesitated--then, catching up a cloak and scarf that lay on a couch, she nodded acquiescence. "Up stream or down?" he asked, as he handed her in and took place beside her. "Up," she said. "Give way," he ordered, and the eight oars that had been raised high in salute dropped as one, and they shot out into the stream. The Lady Mary settled herself among the cushions, one arm thrown carelessly around the awning post. "What nonsense it is," she remarked presently. De Lacy nodded. "Doubtless--but what?" "This foolish dissimulation we all play at; . . . this assumed indifference which deceives no one. Here are we, barging together on the Thames, when you would rather have the Countess . . . and I would rather have Ware." "But would they rather have us?" "I am quite sure she would, and" . . . holding up a hand and slowly flashing the rings . . . "I think he would, too." "If you happen to know which way they went," De Lacy laughed, "we might follow and suggest an exchange." She sat up smartly. "Come," said she, "come; if you will venture it with the Countess, I will with Ware." He smiled. "I thought you gave me a year wherein to prove my stupidity." "But would it be stupidity--might it not be rare brilliancy--a master stroke?" She flashed the rings again. "Lord Darby would risk it were he in like case." "Nay, Darby is no fool."