"'If a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned!' That's true! And I would never 'fool' or mislead you on a matter of such life and death to you, Mr.Reay.

That's why I tell you to speak to Miss Mary as soon as you can find a good opportunity--for I am sure she loves you!" "Sure, David ?" "Sure!" Reay stood silent,--his eyes shining, and "the light that never was on sea or land" transfigured his features.
At that moment a tap came at the door.

A hand, evidently accustomed to the outside management of the latch, lifted it, and Mr.Twitt entered, his rubicund face one broad smile.
"'Afternoon, David! 'Afternoon, Mister! Wheer's Mis' Deane ?" "She's resting a bit in her room," replied Helmsley.
"Ah, well! You can tell 'er the news when she comes in.

Mr.Arbroath's away for 'is life wi' old Nick in full chase arter 'im! It don't do t'ave a fav'rite gel!" Helmsley and Reay stared at him, and then at one another.
"Why, what's up ?" demanded Reay.
"Oh, nuthin' much!" and Twitt's broad shoulders shook with internal laughter.

"It's wot 'appens often in the fam'lies o' the haris-to-crazy, an' aint taken no notice of, forbye 'tis not so common among poor folk.
Ye see Mr.Arbroath he--he--he--he--he--he----" and here the pronoun "he" developed into a long chuckle.