‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. He thought her only an orphan in search of her English relatives. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. Looked like them statues of the Holy Mother I see about the place. All the linen was new and stamped with the mark of Whiteaway, Laidlaw & Co. After all, why should I care what strangers think?" Ruth asked with sudden heat.
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