She looked as if she would be a plucky, tireless sportswoman; yet she had a wistful, tender huggableness that a girl ought not to lose, however well she plays tennis.
They lavished him with praise.
“And how is yourself, Cluny?” said Alan. “I hope ye do brawly, sir. And I am proud to see ye, and to present to ye my friend the Laird of Shaws, Mr. David Balfour.”
My little dumpling.
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