"He hath lately won the gold badge of archery, and, like all men, is apt to think overmuch of himself at such times.

Moreover, I can always make it up to him after--if I like, that is." But as often as Sholto dropped a little behind, keeping pace with Maid Margaret's slower palfrey so that Maud was sure he looked at her, the pretty coquette cast down her eyes in affected humility and sorrow.
Whereupon immediately Sholto felt his resentment begin to melt like snow off a dike top when the sun of April is shining.
But neither of them uttered another word till they reached the drawbridge which crossed the nether moat and conducted to the noble gateway of Thrieve.

Then, at the foot of the stairway to the hall, Sholto, having swung the little maid from her pony, after a moment of sullen hesitation went across to assist Mistress Maud Lindesay out of her saddle.
As he lifted the girl down his heart thundered tumultuously in his breast, for he had never so touched her before.

Her lashes rested modestly on her cheek--long, black, and upcurled a little at the ends.
As her foot touched the ground, she raised them a moment, and looked at him with one swift flash of violet eyes made darker by the seclusion from which she had released them.

Then in another moment she had dropped them again, detaching them from his with a mighty affectation of confusion.
"Please, Sholto, I am sorry.