“Non. ’ Gerald drew his breath in sharply as Lord Charvill took a step towards his granddaughter, thrusting out his head. You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. ‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. He obeyed, letting the garment fall to the floor. Ten thousand steeds appeared to be trampling aloft, charged with the work of devastation. I can't keep a good man beyond three pay-days.
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