The tenderest corner of Jean's tender heart was given to shabby people, and she longed to try to comfort and console, but dared not in case of appearing impertinent.

She reflected dismally that he had not even a wife to be nice to him, and he was far too old to have a mother.
"Are you staying in Priorsford ?" she asked gently.
"I'm at the Temperance Hotel for a few days.

I--the fact is, I haven't been well.

I had to take a rest, so I came back here--after thirty years." "Have you really been away for thirty years?
Great-aunt Alison came to The Rigs first about thirty years ago.

Do you, by any chance, know our landlord in London?
Mr.Peter Reid is his name." "I know him." "He's frightfully rich, they say.