The man was called Macmorran, and he had come from Galloway when sheep were booming.

He was a very good imitation of a savage, a little fellow with red hair and red eyes, who might have been a Pict.

He lived with a daughter who had once been in service in Glasgow, a fat young woman with a face entirely covered with freckles and a pout of habitual discontent.

No wonder, for that cottage was a pretty mean place.

It was so thick with peat-reek that throat and eyes were always smarting.