"Why not?"
"Come, child, read your letters."
"Nay, I've but a half-hour more with you; that was the second quarter struck; I'll read them when you're gone.—Why not?"
"Johnny Graeme is dead."
That sobered me a thought.
"And Margray?" I asked.
"Poor Margray,—she feels very badly."
"You don't mean to say"——
"That she cared for him? But I do."
"Now, Angus Ingestre, I heard Margray tell her mother she'd liefer work on the roads with a chain and ball than marry him! It's all you men know of women. Love Johnny Graeme! Oh, poor man, rest his soul! I'm sore sorry for him. He's gone where there's no gold to make, unless they smelt it there; and I'm not sure but they do,—sinsyne one can see all the evil it's the root of, and all the woe it works,—and he bought Margray, you know he did, Angus!"