But you are a very remarkable epicier.

Mr.Heritage I understand, but you and those little boys--no.

I am sure of one thing--you are not a romantic.

You are too humorous and--and--I think you are like Ulysses, for it would not be easy to defeat you." Her eyes were kind, nay affectionate, and Dickson experienced a preposterous rapture in his soul, followed by a sinking, as he realized how far the job was still from being completed.
"We must be getting on, Mem," he said hastily, and the two plunged again into the heather.
The Ayr road was crossed, and the fir wood around the Mains became visible, and presently the white gates of the entrance.

A wind-blown spire of smoke beyond the trees proclaimed that the house was not untenanted.