"I think you'll quite approve, Aunt Eliza," answered Nan with a becoming meekness. "I'm engaged to marry Roger Trenby."
"Well, I hope ye'll be happier than maist o' the married folks I ken.
Eh!"—with a chuckle—"but Roger's picked a stick for his own back!"
Nan smiled.
"Do you think I'll be so bad to live with, then?"
"'Tisn't so much that you'll be bad with intent. But you're that Varincourt woman's own great-grand-daughter. Not that ye can help it, and I'm no blamin' ye for it. But 'tis wild blood!"
Nan rose, laughing, and kissed her aunt.
"After such a snub as that, I think I'd better take myself off. It's really time I started, as I'm walking."
"Let me run you back in the car," suggested Sandy eagerly.
"No, thanks. I'm taking the short cut home through the woods."
Sandy accompanied her down the drive. At the gates he stopped abruptly.