At the railway station he was still pouring in his questions.
"D'ye believe in prayer?"
"Aye."
"Well, jist ax sometimes that Anna an' me be together, will ye?"
"Aye."
A little group of curious bystanders stood on the platform watching the little trembling old man clinging to me as the tendril of a vine clings to the trunk of a tree.
"We have just one minute, Father!"
"Aye, aye, wan minute—my God, why cudn't ye stay?"
"There are so many voices calling me over the sea."
"Aye, that's thrue."