The document he had produced gave such unexpected substantiality to the venture with which she had so long toyed as a vague dream merely, that she was, in truth, frightened a little.

'I--don't know about it!' she said.
'Perhaps not.

Ah, my little lady, you are wearying of me!' 'No, Nic,' responded she, creeping closer.

'I am not.

Upon my word, and truth, and honour, I am not, Nic.' 'A mere tiller of the soil, as I should be called,' he continued, without heeding her.