Towards her he was ever most courteous, and paid her many little compliments.

He tied her flies, he fitted her rod, and if her line became entangled in the trees he always put matters right.

Not, however, that she could not do it all herself.

In her strong, high fishing-boots, her short skirts hemmed with leather, her burberry, and her dark-blue tam-o'-shanter set jauntily on her chestnut hair, she very often fished alone, and made quite respectable baskets.

To wade into the burn and disentangle her line from beneath a stone was to her quite a small occurrence, for she would never let either Stewart or any of the under-keepers accompany her.
Why Flockart had so suddenly sought her society she failed to discern.
Hitherto, though always extremely polite, he had treated her as a child, which she naturally resented.