Trodger laid down their muskets and turned on them. Curiously enough nothing will persuade him that she is not ‘Alcide. Besides ——” She stopped short. To witness this girl sewing on a loose button, flopping the coat about on her knees, tickled his ironic sense of humour; and laughter bubbled into his throat. She could feel her face turning beet red. “Now I’ll have what I want from you, wife. But at the word “home” she turned again. Would you like to borrow some of my clothes? I think we're about the same size. “Mind my smoking?” said Roddy.
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