Albany had known the Iroquois a century and a half.
Robert's spirits, like Grovenor's, mounted.

Here he was with many friends of his own age and kindred mind.

Everything took on the color of rose.

All of them were talking, but his own gift of speech was the finest.

He clothed narrative with metaphor and illustration until it became so vivid that the others were glad to fall silent and listen to him, though Robert himself was unconscious of the fact.