All that held him back was his love for Mickle.

If Mickle were in my place, she'd do the same.

Mickle turned again to the map, though she knew it by heart.

Mickle had climbed out of the coach to see for herself.

Mickle did not need him as much as he needed her.

"I can't say one way or the other about that," returned Mickle.

Mickle decided to deal first with the more difficult.

He trotted after Mickle, who had gone to the map table.

He was concerned for Mickle and no one else.

"It might as well be the last," said Mickle, climbing in.

The dwarf slowed long enough for Mickle to put her head out the window.

Do you think Mickle's officers would give me any real work to do?

Mickle hesitated, more than ever anxious to investigate the town.

Mickle Street was in those days a leafy working-class neighborhood.

With half a dozen others shouting at the same time, it took Mickle a few moments to understand what had happened.

Mickle reminded the count that she would have made the offer in any circumstances.

He had resigned himself to Mickle's plan, but found his costume unacceptable.

Mickle sprang out and climbed to the box beside him.

Rather than raise questions, Mickle thought it best to leave their mounts and go on foot.

He had not turned to Mickle, whom he loved; least of all to her.

The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame.

"I'll go when the bridge is down," Mickle called over her shoulder, "and not before."

The officer, on the contrary, was impressed, far more than Mickle wished.

He had not dared to say farewell to Mickle; it would have betrayed his plan.

Now Ms. Mickle is trying to help others find that same balance.