I'll have to put all these things by in my trunk; next Sunday I'll be as grey as the rest.

They're Glasgow clothes, you see, and it would never do to make a practice of it.

It would seem terrible conspicuous." By that they were come to the place where their ways severed.

The old grey moors were all about them; in the midst a few sheep wandered; and they could see on the one hand the straggling caravan scaling the braes in front of them for Cauldstaneslap, and on the other, the contingent from Hermiston bending off and beginning to disappear by detachments into the policy gate.

It was in these circumstances that they turned to say farewell, and deliberately exchanged a glance as they shook hands.