Here I am in an alien land; a thousand fiery crosses would not bring one clansman to my side; I cannot fight my foe.

Wherefore, then, should I take favors at his hands ?" "Why should you be my foe ?" demanded Haward.

"Look you, now! There was a time, I suppose, when I was an insolent youngster like any one of those who lately set upon you; but now I call myself a philosopher and man of a world for whose opinions I care not overmuch.

My coat is of fine cloth, and my shirt of holland; your shirt is lockram, and you wear no coat at all: _ergo_, saith a world of pretty fellows, we are beings of separate planets.

'As the cloth is, the man is,'-- to which doctrine I am at times heretic.