'Truth on your life?'

'Yes. Now you'd better change your dress again.'

He reached down an old silver candlestick, very tarnished.

'You can go upstairs. There's a glass in the first room you come to.
Then we'll have supper.'

'Sitting at the supper in a grand shining gown wi' roses on it,' said
Hazel ecstatically, her voice rising to a kind of chant, 'with a white
cloth on table like school-treat, and the old servant hopping to and
agen like thrussels after worms.'

'Thrussel yourself!' muttered Andrew, peering in at the door. He
retired again, remarking to the cat in a sour lugubrious voice, as he
always did when ruffled: 'There's no cats i' the Bible.' He began to
sing 'By the waters of Babylon.'

Upstairs Hazel coiled her hair, running her fingers through its bright
lengths, as she had no comb, and turning in her underbodice to make it
suit the low dress. Outside, his rough hair wet with snow, stood
Reddin, watching her from the vantage-ground of the darkness! He saw
her stand with head erect and bare white shoulders, smiling at herself
in the glass. He saw her slip into the rich gown and pose delightedly,
mincing to and fro like a wagtail. He noted her lissom figure and
shining coils of hair.

'She'll do,' he said, and did not wonder whether he would do himself.