They groped into the pitchy hall, somewhere in which a Die-Hard was
on picket, and down the passage to the smoking-room. Dickson blinked
in the light of a very feeble lamp and Heritage saw that his hands
were cumbered with packages. He deposited them on a sofa and made a
ducking bow.

"I've come back, Mem, and glad to be back. Your jools are in safe
keeping, and not all the blagyirds in creation could get at them.
I've come to tell you to cheer up--a stout heart to a stey brae,
as the old folk say. I'm handling this affair as a business
proposition, so don't be feared, Mem. If there are enemies seeking
you, there's friends on the road too....Now, you'll have had your
dinner, but you'd maybe like a little dessert."

He spread before them a huge box of chocolates, the best that
Mearns Street could produce, a box of candied fruits, and another
of salted almonds. Then from his hideously overcrowded pockets he
took another box, which he offered rather shyly. "That's some powder
for your complexion. They tell me that ladies find it useful whiles."

The girl's strained face watched him at first in mystification, and
then broke slowly into a smile. Youth came back into it, the smile
changed to a laugh, a low rippling laugh like far-away bells.
She took both his hands.

"You are kind,' she said, "you are kind and brave. You are a de-ar."

And then she kissed him.