"Oh, Uncle Jaff, you are strong!" Doria smiled at him admiringly and declared she couldn't lift the thing an inch from the ground with both her hands.
"Do you know," she laughed, "when he used to carry me about, I felt as if I had been picked up by an iron crane." Jaffery beamed with delight.

He was just a little vain of his physical strength.

A colleague of his once told me that he had seen Jaffery in a nasty row in Caracas during a revolution, bend from his saddle and wrench up two murderous villains by the armpits, one in each hand, and dash their heads together over his horse's neck.

But that is the sort of story that Jaffery himself never told.
Barbara, who, flitting about the house on domestic duty, had caught sight of him through a window, came out to greet him.
"Isn't it glorious to have her back ?" he cried, waving his great hand towards Doria.

"And looking so bonny.