"There's something no right with the man James, and I shouldnae
wonder but what Alan Breck would give an eye to him this day. I
would like fine to see yon French nobleman, Davie; and I daresay
you could find an employ to yoursel, and that would be to speir at
the lassie for some news o' your affair. Just tell it to her
plainly--tell her ye're a muckle ass at the off-set; and then, if I
were you, and ye could do it naitural, I would just mint to her I
was in some kind of a danger; a' weemenfolk likes that."
"I cannae lee, Alan, I cannae do it naitural," says I, mocking him.
"The more fool you!" says he. "Then ye'll can tell her that I
recommended it; that'll set her to the laughing; and I wouldnae
wonder but what that was the next best. But see to the pair of
them! If I didnae feel just sure of the lassie, and that she was
awful pleased and chief with Alan, I would think there was some
kind of hocus-pocus about you."
"And is she so pleased with ye, then, Alan?" I asked.
"She thinks a heap of me," says he. "And I'm no like you: I'm one
that can tell.
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