"Yes--at the dullest, dreariest, deadliest spot in all Christendom, I
think--if Ayrshire be Christendom. But never mind about that now.
Perhaps, as you are at the other side of the mountain at the cottage, we
shall find it less dull here at the castle."
"I thought you were to be so happy here!"
"Sit down and we'll talk it all over by degrees. What will you have--
breakfast or lunch?"
"Neither, thank you."
"Of course you'll stay to dinner?"
"No, indeed. I've a man there at the cottage with me who would cut his
throat in his solitude."
"Let him cut his throat; but never mind now. As for being happy, women are
never happy without men. I needn't tell any lies to you, you know. What
makes me sure that this fuss about making men and women all the same must
be wrong is just the fact that men can get along without women, and women
can't without men. My life has been a burden to me. But never mind. Tell
me about my lord--my lord and master."
"Lord Fawn?"
"Who else? What other lord and master? My bosom's own; my heart's best
hope; my spot of terra firma; my cool running brook of fresh water; my
rock; my love; my lord; my all.
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