"What is in your mind?" Crosby asked.
"An unjust thought, Master Gilbert. Since thirty years ago the one woman
I ever thought of jilted me, I've had no love for any woman. I'm afraid
of them and unjust in my thoughts of them. My opinion concerning women
is of no value."
"What were you thinking about Harriet Payne?"
"She was a bit flighty, Master Gilbert, and rather given to look down on
the other servants. That kind of girl is open to flattery."
"And then, Golding?"
"Then! Well, I'm no judge of women, but it seems to me that once they're
fond of flattery you can make them do almost anything. She was a
good-looking girl, was Harriet Payne, and if some young slip of a dandy
got hold of her--well, she might make a bargain with him and get
released that way."
"Was she that kind of girl?"
"I'm not saying so; I'm only putting it as a possibility," Golding
answered. "Such bargains have been made, Master Gilbert, if the tales
they tell be true."
Crosby clenched his teeth suddenly, and struck his fist irritably on his
knee. One such tale he had heard, told of the brutal Colonel Kirke, a
woman's honour sacrificed to save her lover, and sacrificed in vain.
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