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..."
"Faith, now, don't I know what another would have said? Don't I
know my fellow-man at all?"
"Sometimes I think you do, and sometimes I think you don't. Anyway,
you don't know your fellow-woman. There was that affair of the
Spaniards."
"Will ye never forget it?"
"Never."
"Bad cess to your memory. Is there no good in me at all that you
could be dwelling on instead?"
"Oh, several things."
"For instance, now?" He was almost eager.
"You speak excellent Spanish."
"Is that all?" He sank back into dismay.
"Where did you learn it? Have you been in Spain?"
"That I have. I was two years in a Spanish prison."
"In prison?" Her tone suggested apprehensions in which he had no
desire to leave her.
"As a prisoner of war," he explained. "I was taken fighting with
the French - in French service, that is."
"But you're a doctor!" she cried.
"That's merely a diversion, I think. By trade I am a soldier - at
least, it's a trade I followed for ten years. It brought me no great
gear, but it served me better than medicine, which, as you may
observe, has brought me into slavery.


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