Jean wished Pamela had been there to see the lamps lit in his green eyes.

Mrs.M'Cosh's beautiful tea was lost on him: he ate and drank without being aware of it, his eyes feasting all the time on this great new treasure.
"I wish," he said at last, "that I could do something for the Honourable and Richard Plantagenet.

I only sent her a wee poetry-book.

It cost a shilling.

It was Jean's shilling really, for I hadn't anything left, and I wrote in it, 'Wishing you a pretty New Year.' I forgot about 'happy' being the word; d'you think she'll mind ?" "I think Pamela will prefer it called 'pretty,'" Jean said.