A fine beer," he said aloud, holding up the second tankard.
The vintner raised his; there was an unconscious grace in the movement.
A covert glance at his hand satisfied Carmichael in regard to one thing.
He might be a vintner, but the hand was as soft and well-kept as a woman's, for all that it was stained by wind and sunshine.

A handsome beggar, whoever and whatever he was.

But a second thought disturbed him.
Could a man with hands like these mean well toward Gretchen?
He was a thorough man of the world; he knew innocence at first glance, and Gretchen was both innocent and unworldly.

To the right man she might be easy prey.

Never to a man like Colonel von Wallenstein, whose power and high office were alike sinister to any girl of the peasantry; but a man in the guise of her own class, of her own world and people, here was a snare Gretchen might not be able to foresee.