But ye, Sarah! Did ye see his face, woman?
Ye sent him off lookin' leke a white light of holiness had passed ower and settled on him.

Ye sent the lad away too happy for mortal words, Sarah.

And ye made me that proud o' ye! I wouldna trade ye an' my share o' the Limberlost with ony king ye could mention." He relaxed his clasp, and setting a heavy hand on each shoulder, he looked straight into her eyes.
"Ye're prime, Sarah! Juist prime!" he said.
Sarah Duncan stood alone in the middle of her two-roomed log cabin and lifted a bony, clawlike pair of hands, reddened by frequent immersion in hot water, cracked and chafed by exposure to cold, black-lined by constant battle with swamp-loam, calloused with burns, and stared at them wonderingly.
"Pretty-lookin' things ye are!" she whispered.

"But ye hae juist been kissed.

And by such a man! Fine as God ever made at His verra best.
Duncan wouldna trade wi' a king! Na! Nor I wadna trade with a queen wi' a palace, an' velvet gowns, an' diamonds big as hazelnuts, an' a hundred visitors a day into the bargain.