"You darling!" he said suddenly.
She laughed.
"That doesn't come in!" she said.
"It does come in! It comes in everywhere!" he declared. "There's no other woman in the world that would have done so much for a poor forlorn old tramp like that, adrift on the country roads. And you exposed yourself to some risk, too, Mary! He might have been a dangerous character!"
"Poor dear, he didn't look it," she said gently—"and he hasn't proved it. Everything has gone well for me since I did my best for him. It was even through him that you came to know me, Angus!—think of that! Blessings on the dear old man!—I'm sure he must be an angel in disguise!"
He smiled.
"Well, we never know!" he said. "Angels certainly don't come to us with all the celestial splendour which is supposed to belong to them—they may perhaps choose the most unlikely way in which to make their errands known. I have often—especially lately—thought that I have seen an angel looking at me out of the eyes of a woman!"
"You will talk poetry!" protested Mary.
"I'm not talking it—I'm living it!" he answered.
There was nothing to be said to this. He was an incorrigible lover, and remonstrances were in vain.