They had lived in remote moorland places since their birth.

They had so little to say to each other that Lord Coombe sometimes felt a slight curiosity as to why they had married instead of remaining silent singly.

There was however neither sullenness nor resentment in their lack of expression.

Coombe thought they liked each other but found words unnecessary.

Jock Macaur driving his sheep to fold in the westering sun wore the look of a man not unpleased with life and at least undisturbed by it.