"I have still the appetite of a traveler--in faith, rather a better appetite than most travelers may claim, for I swear I've had no more to eat the last day and night than could be purchased for a pair of shillings." Pembroke raised his eyebrows, scarce knowing whether to be amused at this speech or nettled by its cool assurance.
"Some ill fortune ?"--he began politely.
"There is no such thing as ill fortune," quoth John Law.

"We fail always of our own fault.

Forsooth I must explore Roman roads by night.

England hath builded better, and the footpads have the Roman ways.

My brother Will--he waiteth below, if ye please, good friends, and is quite as hungry as myself, besides having a pricked finger to boot--and I lost what little we had about us, and we came through with scarce a good shirt between the two." A peal of laughter greeted him as he pulled apart the lapels of his coat and showed ruffles torn and disfigured.