"Love comes, I'm told, with marriage.

But we can do well enough without fugling on that pipe.

Come, come, dost think I'm not a proper man and a gentleman?
Dost think I'll not use thee well and 'fend thee, Huguenot though thou art, 'gainst trouble or fret or any man's persecutions--be he my Lord Bishop, my Lord Chancellor, or King of France, or any other ?" She came a step closer to him, even as though she would lay a hand upon his arm.

"I believe that you would do all that in you lay," she answered steadily.

"Yours is a rough wooing, but it is honest--" "Rough! Rough!" he protested, for he thought he had behaved like some Adonis.