They are West country--Glasgow, I think, or Greenock--and they find Priorsford just a little stiff.

They've been here about three years, and I'm afraid are rather disappointed that they haven't made more progress socially.

I love them personally.

They are so genteel, as a rule, but every little while the raciness natural to the West country breaks out." "You are nice to them, Jean, I am sure." "Oh yes, but the penalty of being more or less nice to everyone is that nobody values your niceness: they take it for granted.

Whereas the haughty and exclusive, if they do condescend to stoop, are hailed as gods among mortals." "Poor Jean!" laughed Pamela.