"And I wish to go to Jamestown.
This forest wearies me." Her tone was imperious.
"I must think it over," I said coolly.

"I may take you, or I may not.

I cannot tell yet." "But I desire to go, sir!" "And I may desire you to stay." "You are a churl!" I bowed.

"I am the man of your choice, madam." She rose with a stamp of her foot, and, turning her back upon me, took a flower from the table and commenced to pull from it its petals.

I unsheathed my sword, and, seating myself, began to polish away a speck of rust upon the blade.