“Stupid!” rejoined his docile spouse, vexed by his laconic assent. “Do you mean she has run away?” “Tis what anyone might take from what I have told you,” he answered sweetly. “And you have lent her horses and helped her to get away, and you leave her husband at play in there?” “You have seen her marriage lines, I make no doubt,” he sneered irrelevantly. “You dolt! If the gentleman horsewhips you, you will have richly earned it.” “Eh? What?” gasped he, and his rubicund cheeks lost something of their high colour, for here was a possibility that had not entered into his calculations. But Mistress Quinn stayed not to answer him. Already she was making for the door, wiping the dough from her hands on to her apron as she went. A suspicion of her purpose flashed through her husband's mind. “What would you do?” he inquired nervously. “Tell the gentleman what has taken place.” “Nay,” he cried, resolutely barring her way. “Nay. That you shall not. Would you--would you ruin me?” She gave him a look of contempt, and dodging his grasp she gained the door and was half-way down the passage towards the common room before he had overtaken her and caught her round the middle. “Are you mad, woman?” he shouted. “Will you undo me?” “Do you undo me,” she bade him, snatching at his hands. But he clutched with the tightness of despair. “You shall not go,” he swore. “Come back and leave the gentleman to make the discovery for himself. I dare swear it will not afflict him overmuch. He has abandoned her sorely since they came; not a doubt of it but that he is weary of her. At least he need not know I lent her horses. Let him think she fled a-foot, when he discovers her departure.” “I will go,” she answered stubbornly, dragging him with her a yard or two nearer the door. “The gentleman shall be warned. Is a woman to run away from her husband in my house, and the husband never be warned of it?” “I promised her,” he began. “What care I for your promises?” she asked. “I will tell him, so that he may yet go after her and bring her back.” “You shall not,” he insisted, gripping her more closely. But at that moment a delicately mocking voice greeted their ears. “Marry, 'tis vastly diverting to hear you,” it said. They looked round, to find one of the party of town sparks that had halted at the inn standing arms akimbo in the narrow passage, clearly waiting for them to make room. “A touching sight, sir,” said he sardonically to the landlord. “A wondrous touching sight to behold a man of your years playing the turtle-dove to his good wife like the merest fledgeling. It grieves me to intrude myself so harshly upon your cooing, though if you'll but let me pass you may resume your chaste embrace without uneasiness, for I give you my word I'll never look behind me.”