The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a yellow-haired young person near the door. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. He stood completely still as she moved her tongue up and down its shaft. Afterward she wanted to get her letter to her father back in order to read it over again, and, if it tallied with her general impression of it, re-write it. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. He opened the drawer of the writing table. "These are my terms, Sir Rowland," he added, taking a sheet of paper from his pocket, and pushing it towards the knight. CHAPTER XVIII.
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