“Is that sae? It is just as weel.”
“He is awa’ wi’ his Uncle Ballister, for a year or mair.”
“Is he thinking you’ll wait, while he looks o’er the women-folk in the rest o’ the warld?”
“It seems sae.”
“You liked him weel enough?”
“Whiles—weel enough for a lover on trial. But what would a lass do wi’ a husband wha could leave her for a year on his ain partic’lar pleasure.”
“I kent you wad act wiselike, when the time came to act. There’s nae men sae true as fishermen. They hae ane dear woman to love, and she’s the only woman in the warld for them. Now Cluny——”
“We willna speak o’ Cluny, Feyther. Both you and Mither, specially Mither, are far out o’ your usual health. What for did God gie you a daughter, 85 if it wasna to be a comfort and help to you, when you needed it? I’m no carin’ to marry any man.”
“Please God, you arena fretting anent Angus?”
“What for would I fret? He was a grand lover while he lasted. But when a man is feared to honor his love with his name, a lass has a right to despise him.”