But Strickland was not at church.
The white cavern, bare and chill, with small, deep windows looking out upon the hills of June, was but sparely set out with folk.

Afternoon was not morning.

Nor was there again the disciplinary vision of the forenoon.

The sinners were not set the second time for a gazing-stock.
It was just usual afternoon kirk.

The prayer was made, the psalm was sung, Mr.M'Nab preached a strong if wintry sermon.