It killed, and killed most dogmatically.

But it is an ill wind that blows nobody good.

Even an east wind must bear some blessing on its ugly wings.

And as Robert looked down from the gable, the wind was blowing up the street before it half-a-dozen footfaring students from Aberdeen, on their way home at the close of the session, probably to the farm-labours of the spring.
This was a glad sight, as that of the returning storks in Denmark.
Robert knew where they would put up, sought his cap, and went out.

His grandmother never objected to his going to see Miss Napier; it was in her house that the weary men would this night rest.
It was not without reason that Lord Rothie had teased his hostess about receiving foot-passengers, for to such it was her invariable custom to make some civil excuse, sending Meg or Peggy to show them over the way to the hostelry next in rank, a proceeding recognized by the inferior hostess as both just and friendly, for the good woman never thought of measuring The Star against The Boar's Head.