Mrs.
Marsett liked love, blood, and adventure.

She had, moreover, a favourite noble poet, and she begged Nesta's pardon for naming him, and she would not name him, and told her she must not read him until she was a married woman, because he did mischief to girls.

Thereupon she fell into one of her silences, emerging with a cry of hate of herself for having ever read him.

She did not blame the bard.

And, ah, poor bard! he fought his battle: he shall not be named for the brand on the name.