Sister, your arm." "Have I done well, Emlyn ?" Bolle asked, as he tightened the girths.
"I don't know," she answered, looking at him sideways.

"You played the cur at first, leaving us to burn for your sins, but afterwards, well, you found the wits you say you never lost.

Also your manners mended, and yonder captain knave learned that you can handle an axe, so we'll say no more about it, lad, for doubtless that Abbot and his spies were sore task-masters and broke your spirit with their penances and talk of hell to come.

Here, lift my lady on to this horse, for she is spent, and let me lean upon your shoulder, Thomas.

It's weary work standing at a stake." Cicely's recollections of the remainder of that day were always shadowy and tangled.