His collie dog seemed to age in company, and, to see them side by side, one might have said, in sympathy.
Durrance and Ethne were thus thrown much together.

By day, in the wet weather or the fine, they tramped the hills, while she, with the colour glowing in her face, and her eyes most jealous and eager, showed him her country and exacted his admiration.

In the evenings she would take her violin, and sitting as of old with an averted face, she would bid the strings speak of the heights and depths.

Durrance sat watching the sweep of her arm, the absorption of her face, and counting up his chances.

He had not brought with him to Glenalla Lieutenant Sutch's anticipations that he would succeed.