“Will ye hold your tongue, asthore, and not be spoiling me story on me?”

“Oh, indeed I am sorry! I will be good!”

“⁠—and he started and seemed monstrous put out. What’s more, me dear, I heard him speak to his mare in an ordinary, gentleman’s voice. Molly, ye never saw the like of that same mare! The sweetest⁠—”

“Pray, never mind the mare, dear! I am all agog to hear about the gentleman-highwayman!”

“Very well, me love, though ’twas a prodigious fine mare⁠—When I heard him speak, it flashed across me brain that I knew him⁠—no, ye don’t, Molly!” His hand was over her mouth as he spoke, and her eyes danced madly. “But I could not for the life of me think where I had heard that voice: ’twas but the one word I heard him speak, ye understand, and when I held his wrists I felt that ’twas no stranger. And yet ’tis impossible. When I got him within the coach⁠—”

“How imprudent! He might have⁠—”