Glenfernie might receive letters from Germany, from Italy or Egypt, or from further yet to the east.

He had been alone this year, for Ian was now the King's man and with his regiment, Strickland supposed, wherever that might be.

Alexander had written from Buda-Pesth, from Erfurt, from Amsterdam, from London.

Now he sat here at Glenfernie, looking into the fire.

Strickland, who liked books of travel, wondered what he saw of old cities, grave or gay, of ruined temples, sphinxes, monuments, grass-grown battle-fields, and ships at sea, storied lands, peoples, individual men and women.