He comes here because, being human, he's got to open his mouth some time or other, I suppose; but it's my opinion he has neither Advena nor anybody else in his mind's eye at present.

He doesn't go the right way about it." "H'm!" said John Murchison.
"He brought her a book the last time he came--what do you think the name of it was?
The something or other of Plato! Do you call that a natural gift from a young man who is thinking seriously of a girl?
Besides, if I know anything about Plato he was a Greek heathen, and no writer for a Presbyterian minister to go lending around.

I'd Plato him to the rightabout if it was me!" "She might read worse than Plato," remarked John.
"Oh, well, she read it fast enough.

She's your own daughter for outlandish books.

Mercy on us, here comes the man! We'll just say 'How d'ye do ?' to him, and then start for Abby's, John.