If you did, you would find they had none of the gilt and gloss you imagine.

But the great things they have got in common with all humanity you ignore.
It's like--it's like sentimentalising about a pancake because it looked like a buttercup, and all the while not knowing that it was good to eat." At that moment the Australian entered the room to get a light for his pipe.

He wore a motor-cyclist's overalls and appeared to be about to take the road.

He bade them good night, and it seemed to Dickson that his face, seen in the glow of the fire, was drawn and anxious, unlike that of the agreeable companion at dinner.
"There," said Mr.Heritage, nodding after the departing figure.

"I dare say you have been telling yourself stories about that chap--life in the bush, stockriding and the rest of it.