Macfarlane, meditatively watching
the girl from under his pale eyelashes, thought of Mr. Dyceworthy's
matrimonial pretensions, with a humorous smile hovering on his thin
lips.
"Ma certes! the fellow has an unco' gude opeenion o' himself," he mused.
"He might as well offer his hand in marriage to the Queen while he's
aboot it,--he wad hae just as muckle chance o' acceptance."
Meanwhile, Errington, having learned all he wished to know concerning
Sigurd, was skillfully drawing out old Olaf Gueldmar, and getting him to
give his ideas on things in general, a task in which Lorimer joined.
"So you don't think we're making any progress nowadays?" inquired the
latter with an appearance of interest, and a lazy amusement in his blue
eyes as he put the question.
"Progress!" exclaimed Gueldmar. "Not a bit of it! It is all a going
backward; it may not seem apparent, but it is so. England, for instance,
is losing the great place she once held in the world's history,--and
these things always happen to all nations when money becomes more
precious to the souls of the people than honesty and honor.
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