He had to support himself by one hand rested on the dresser, but she saw he was looking far better--younger, less haggard--than he had seemed to her before.

His face was short and expressive; his complexion had been weatherbeaten and bronzed, though now he looked so pale; his eyes and hair were dark,--the former quick, deep-set, and penetrating; the latter curly, and almost in ringlets.

His teeth gleamed white as he smiled at her, a pleasant friendly smile of recognition; but she only blushed the deeper, and hung her head.
'I'll come, sir, and be thankful.

I daresay a turn'll do me good, if the weather holds up, an' th' frost keeps on.' 'That's right, my lad,' said Robson, shaking him by the hand, and then Kinraid's hand was held out to Sylvia, and she could not avoid the same friendly action.
Molly Corney followed her to the door, and when they were fairly outside, she held Sylvia back for an instant to say,-- 'Is na' he a fine likely man?
I'm so glad as yo've seen him, for he's to be off next week to Newcastle and that neighbourhood.' 'But he said he'd come to us some night ?' asked Sylvia, half in a fright.
'Ay, I'll see as he does; never fear.

For I should like yo' for to know him a bit.