"'Tis a common courtesy, and you could not well refuse. I love you none the less for paying your debts; even to such a villain as this volunteer captain." "True, 'tis a debt, as you say; but I like little enough the manner of its paying. How came you to quarrel with him, Jack?" Now even so blunt a soldier as I have ever been may have some prickings of delicacy where the truth might breed gossip--gossip about a tale which I had said should die with Richard Coverdale and be buried in his grave. So I evaded the question, clumsily enough, as has ever been my hap in fencing with words. "The cause was not wanting. If any ask, you may say he trod upon my foot in passing." Jennifer laughed. "And for that you struck him? Heavens, man! you hold your life carelessly. Do you happen to know that this volunteer captain of light-horse is accounted the best blade in the troop?" "Who should know that better than--" I was fairly on the brink of betraying the true cause of quarrel, but drew rein in time. "I care not if he were the best in the army. I have crossed steel before--and with a good swordsman now and then." "Anan?" said Jennifer, as one who makes no doubt. And then: "But this toe-pinching story is but a dry crust to offer a friend. You spoke of a lady; who was she? Or was that only another way of telling me to mind my own affairs?" "Oh, as to that; the lady was real enough, and Falconnet did grossly asperse her. But I know not who she is, nor aught about her, save that she is sweet and fair and good to look upon." "Young?" "Aye." "And you say you do not know her? Let me see her through your eyes and mayhap I can name her for you." "That I can not. Mr. Peale's best skill would be none too great for the painting of any picture that should do her justice. But she is small, with the airs and graces of a lady of the quality; also, she has witching blue eyes, and hair that has the glint of summer sunshine in it. Also, she sits a horse as if bred to the saddle." To my amazement, Jennifer leaped up with an oath and flung his pipe into the fire. "Curse him!" he cried. "And he dared lay a foul tongue to her, you say? Tell me what he said! I have a good right to know!" I shook my head. "Nay, Richard; I may not repeat it to you, since you are the man's second. Truly, there is more than this at the back of our quarrel; but of itself it was enough, and more than enough, inasmuch as the lady had just done him the honor to recognize him." "His words--his very words, Jack, if you love me!" "No; the quarrel is mine." "By God! it is not yours!" he stormed, raging back and forth before the fire. "What is Margery Stair to you, Jack Ireton?" I smiled, beginning now to see some peephole in this millstone of mystery. "Margery Stair? She is no more than a name to me, I do assure you; the daughter of the man who sits in my father's seat at Appleby Hundred." "But you are going to fight for her!" he retorted.