And what are they to us if we love one another ?' 'I tell you I am a child no longer,' flamed Dorothy.
'You were seventeen last St.George's Day, and I shall be nineteen next St.Michael's.' 'St.George for merry England!' cried Dorothy.
'St.Michael for the Truth!' cried Richard.
'So be it.

Good-bye, then,' said the girl, going.
'What DO you mean, Dorothy ?' said Richard; and she stood to hear, but with her back towards him, and, as it were, hovering midway in a pace.
'Did not St.Michael also slay his dragon?
Why should the knights part company?
Believe me, Dorothy, I care more for a smile from you than for all the bishops in the church, or all the presbyters out of it.' 'You take needless pains to prove yourself a foolish boy, Richard; and if I go not to my mother at once, I fear I shall learn to despise you--which I would not willingly.' 'Despise me! Do you take me for a coward then, Dorothy ?' 'I say not that.

I doubt not, for the matter of swords and pistols, you are much like other male creatures; but I protest I could never love a man who preferred my company to the service of his king.' She glided into the alley and sped along its vaulted twilight, her white dress gleaming and clouding by fits as she went.
The youth stood for a moment petrified, then started to overtake her, but stood stock-still at the entrance of the alley, and followed her only with his eyes as she went.
When Dorothy reached the house, she did not run up to her room that she might weep unseen.

She was still too much annoyed with Richard to regret having taken such leave of him.

She only swallowed down a little balloonful of sobs, and went straight into the parlour, where her mother and Mr.Herbert still sat, and resumed her seat in the bay window.