“She did that!”
“And you saw her tears down-distilling all crystalline woe, Hector?”
“She had her back tae me, I’m tellin’ ye!”
“Well, did she embrace your offer in humble, grateful thankfulness?”
“She’s tae gi’e me her answer when she’s conseedered the matter.”
“So, Hector, you offer her the comfort and shelter of a home, the secure protection of your care ... merely because she tended the hurt in your arm?”
Sir Hector seemed to find some difficulty with the drawing of his pipe; he examined it, tapped it, grew red in the face blowing down it, and finally, giving it up in despair, spoke.
“John, ye’ve a shrewd eye for a bonny lass. I’ll no’ deny she’s an unco’ handsome creature. But, wha’s better, lad, she’s a gude lass, sweet an’ pure, John ... and here’s mysel’, an auld sojer as kens little o’ women except—t’other sort; here’s me, John, wad keep her gude and pure as she is. Gin she’ll but trust tae my care, here’s me will shield her from onything and onybody, aye, even from—from——”
“Me, Hector?”
“Aye—juist yersel’, John.”