Susan was not disconcerted. "Will you drink a tankard?" said she. "Or Sir John has some Spanish wine which he makes much of." "Susan, you despise men. It is a vile infidel habit." He paused, and Susan dutifully smiled. "Why now, what are you laughing at? You! You don't know what I mean." "To be sure, no," said Susan. "Does it matter?" "Oh Lud, your repartees! Bludgeons and broadswords! I mean, ma'am, you think men are nought but casks--things to fill with drink and victuals. Is it not true?" Susan considered this, her head a little on one side and smiling. She wore a dress of dark blue velvet cut low about the neck, and so, nature having made her sumptuous, was very well suited. "Egad, now I know what you're like," Mr. Hadley cried. "You're one of Rubens' women, Susan; just one of those plump, spacious dames as healthy as milk and peaches, and blandly jolly about it." Susan looked down at herself with her usual amiable satisfaction and patted the heavy coils of her yellow hair and said: "Sir John often talks of having me painted. But that's after dinner. Will you stay dinner, Mr. Hadley?" "Damme, Susan, what should I say after dinner, if I say so much now?" Susan smiled upon him with perfect calm. "Why, I never can tell what you will say. Can you?" "You're a hypocrite, Susan. You look as simple as a baby, and the truth is you're deep, devilish deep. Here!" He fumbled in his pocket. "Here's a guinea for your thoughts if you tell them true. Now what are you thinking, ma'am?" "Why, I am thinking that you came to see my father, and yet you stay here talking to me;" she gurgled pleasant laughter and held out her hand for the guinea. Mr. Hadley still retained it. "That pleases you, does it?" "Yes, indeed. You're so comical." Mr. Hadley surrendered the guinea, looked at his empty left sleeve and made a wry face. "Lord, yes, I am comical enough. A lop-sided grotesque." "That's not fair!" He had at last made her blush. "You know well I did not mean that. I think it makes you look--noble." "It makes me feel a fool," said Mr. Hadley. "Lord, Susan, one arm's not enough to go round you." "So we'll kill the Elstree hog for Christmas;" that apposite interruption came in her father's robust voice. Sir John strode rolling in. "What, Charles! In very good time, egad. You can come with me." "What, sir, back to the swine? I profess Susan makes as pretty company." Sir John was pleased to laugh. "Ay, the wench pays for her victuals, too. Damme, Sue, you look good enough to eat." He chucked her chin paternally. "Well, my lad, I ha' thought over that business and I'm taking horse to ride over to Tetherdown." "Oh Lord," said Mr. Hadley. "And what then, sir?" "I'll talk to Master Geoffrey." "Oh Lord," said Mr. Hadley again. "Do it delicately." "Delicate be damned," said Sir John. "I had better ride with you," said Mr. Hadley. "Good boy. Here, Roger--Mr. Hadley's horse." Susan stood up. "Lud, sir, you will not be here to dinner then?"