"Dauvit, why did you never marry? You like women I fancy."
My remark made him thoughtful.
"Man," he said, "I've often speered the same question o' mysel. As a young man I was gye fond o' the lassies, but . . . I dinna ken!" and he broke off suddenly and took up a boot. "Thae soles are just paper noo-a-days," he growled.
I refused to let him run away from the subject.
"Had you a sweetheart?" I asked.
He laughed boisterously to hide his confusion.
"Dozens o' them!" he cried.
"Then why didn't you marry one of them?"
He shook his head.
"Dominie, that's the question." He stared at the grate for a while. "There was Maggie Adams, a bonny lassie she was. Man, I mind when I took her to Kirriemair Market . . ." He sighed. "Aye, man, dominie, I liked Maggie mair than ony o' the others."