"No reason why it shouldn't be," he said.
"I've generally found him right." "I've never been able myself," he continued, "to understand the Lord's enthusiasm for David.

I suppose it was the Psalms that did it." Joan was about to offer comment, but was struck dumb with astonishment on hearing McKean's voice: it seemed he could talk.

He was telling of an old Scotch peasant farmer.

A mean, cantankerous old cuss whose curious pride it was that he had never given anything away.

Not a crust, nor a sixpence, nor a rag; and never would.