Soap and water seemed to him almost quite unnecessary, and he had greatly admired and envied the Laplanders since Jock had told him that that hardy race rarely, if ever, washed.
"I hope you weren't cold in that open car," Lewis Elliot said as he helped Pamela and Jean to remove their wraps.

"D'you mind coming into my den?
It's warm, if untidy.

The drawing-room is so little used that it's about as cheerful as a tomb." He led them through the panelled hall, down a long passage hung with sporting prints, into what was evidently a much-liked and much-used room.
Books were everywhere, lining the walls, lying in heaps on tables, some even piled on the floor, but a determined effort had evidently been made to tidy things a little, for papers had been collected into bundles, pipes had been thrust into corners, and bowls of chrysanthemums stood about to sweeten the tobacco-laden atmosphere.
A large fire burned on the hearth, and Lewis pulled up some masculine-looking arm-chairs and asked the ladies to sit in them, but Jean along with Jock and Mhor were already engrossed in books, and their neglected host looked at them with disgust.
"Such are the primitive manners of the Jardine family," he said to Pamela.

"If you want a word out of them you must lock up all printed matter before they approach.

Thank goodness, that's the gong! They can't read while they're feeding." "Honourable," said Mhor, as they ate their excellent luncheon.