might wander for a month in Morgraunt before you got out. True, the
odds were against your doing either; but whose business was that?

Galors probably knew the truth of it, for he was very often at
Tortsentier. He knew, for instance, of Maulfry's taste for armour. The
place was full of it, and had a frieze of shields, which Maulfry
herself polished every day, as brave with blazonry as on the day they
first went out before their masters. Maulfry was very fond of
heraldry. It was a great delight of hers to go through her collection
with such a man as Galors, who thoroughly understood the science,
conning over the quarterings, the legends, the badges and differences,
and capping each with its appropriate story, its little touch of
romance, its personal reference to each owner in turn. There was no
harm in all this, and for Galors' part he would be able to testify
that there was no luxurious company there when he came, and no dark
hints of violence, treachery, or mischief for the most suspicious eye
to catch at. Tortsentier was not so far from the Abbey liberties that
one might not fetch at it in a six hours' ride, provided one knew the
road. Galors was a great rider and knew the road by heart. He was a
frequent visitor of Maulfry's, therefore, and would have seen what
there was to see. If the cavillers had known that it would have
quieted many a whisper over the fire. They might have been told,
further, that Maulfry and he were very old friends, and from a time
long before his entry into religion at Holy Thorn. If there had been
love between them, it had left no scar. Love with Galors was a
pastime: he might make a woman his mistress, but he could never allow
her to be his master. And whatever there had been in this sort, any
love now left in Maulfry for the monk was largely tempered with
respect. They were excellent friends.