'I have not been invited there; but if you turn me out, I shall find a shakedown somewhere. There is that girl Kenappuch at the mill. She'll have me for certain, and I'll pay her; not so high as a warming-pan, but in currants and figs and a roll of calico. The accommodation won't be so good as yours, nor the feeding so liberal.' 'You have got to know her also?' 'Yes.' 'And Mark Runham?' 'Yes; he has got to know me. That's the way to put it.' 'You are resolved to seek friends where I disapprove—among those who are my enemies?' 'I know nothing and care less about your quarrels. I've got acquainted with both, and they are the only persons in the Fens for whom I care'— 'Oh, you care only for them.' 'Outside Prickwillow. You cut me short before I had finished my sentence. That is bad manners. If we kept manners in stock, I'd sell you a penn'orth.' 'Ah,' said Drownlands, for a moment relaxing his iron grasp, 'you allow me some of your regard?' 'I always care for every one who is kind to me, and you have been kind to both me and my poor father.' At the mention of her father Zita's lips and voice quivered, and tears filled her eyes. 'You were good to him. I do not forget that, and I'll pay you for it in anything I have got that you fancy. What do you say to smoked mother-of-pearl buttons?' 'Will you be quiet?' roared Drownlands, with an oath. 'Or,' continued Zita, 'there are several pounds of strong fish-glue. It went soft and got mouldy in the van, but I got it dry in the kitchen and wiped the mould off. It is all right now; the strength isn't taken out of it. A shilling a pound is what it would cost you in Ely, but as I offer it to you, I'll knock off twopence. You shall have it for tenpence per pound—so you see I do care for you, twopence in the shilling.' Drownlands' face darkened; he pressed the girl's wrist so that she uttered an exclamation of pain. 'You hurt me,' she said; 'that's something off your account.' 'You are making a jest of me!' gasped the man. 'And you dare to do so? You are not afraid?' 'What should I be afraid of?' 'I can hurt you—worse than by nipping your wrist.' 'And I can defend myself,' she answered. '_I_ afraid of _you_? No; it was you who trembled and screamed like a woman when I touched you on the river bank that night we first met. It is _you_ who have reason to be afraid of _me_.' The colour went out of his face. 'No, I am not afraid of you,' continued Zita. 'I remember how, when you sought to ride on, I stopped your way, and drove you where I wanted you to go—drove you with the flail.' He released her arm. She felt that his hand was shaking. He knew that it shook, and he was afraid lest she should observe it. He walked in silence to the stable with his head lowered. Zita followed. She had gained a first advantage. She had forestalled his attack, and now, instead of her being cowed by him, he was subdued by her.