" The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. It was a brief solitude, however. From beginning to end it was first-hand stuff. “I want to be your friend,” he said. If the boy had done anything wrong back there in the States, his would be the brand of conscience to pay him out in full. He'd have enough to do to protect himself, without attending to you. ’ Hilary’s brows shot up. They are arbitrary and unjust and dogmatic and brutish and lustful. Down in my part of the world it's all a man has to go by.
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