I am getting old too." "How old ?" he asked, looking down at her with his old bluntness.
"Twenty-eight." "Ah, they are summers," he said; "mine have turned to winters.

Will you sit here where I was sitting?
See, I will spread this rug for your white dress." Maggie paused, looking through the trees toward the sinking sun.

The light fell on her face and showed one or two lines which had not been there before.

It showed a patient tenderness in the steady eyes which had always been there--which Catrina had noticed in the stormy days that were past.
"I cannot stay long," she replied.

"I am with the Faneaux at Brandon for a few days.