“Why should one pretend?” she whispered. " "Not at fisticuffs, perhaps," interrupted Jack, fiercely; "but I've my knife. The carpenter did not hesitate a moment. ‘But if you must fight so furiously, I don’t see how I can promise not to do it again. Maybe later. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. “Yes,” said Ann Veronica, trying to think where they were, trying to get things plain again that had seemed plain enough in the quiet of the night. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. You’ve got me. Many’s the young ’un I’ve seen get hisself into just such a knuckleheaded mess all on account of a pretty wench.
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