Dandie's sister, sitting by the side of Clem in her new Glasgow finery, chose that moment to observe the young laird.

Aware of the stir of his entrance, the little formalist had kept her eyes fastened and her face prettily composed during the prayer.

It was not hypocrisy, there was no one further from a hypocrite.

The girl had been taught to behave: to look up, to look down, to look unconscious, to look seriously impressed in church, and in every conjuncture to look her best.

That was the game of female life, and she played it frankly.