Elinor Macartney Lane,
Nancy Stair: A Novel
“ I paced up and down the lower hall, perplexed in mind and sick with dread of the horror hanging over us, yet with something in my heart which told me that, in spite of Hugh's statements, Nancy Stair was with us—with Sandy, and Danvers, and myself. Near one o'clock of the morning I heard Nancy's voice, at the turn of the stair, saying good night to the London man. "People think he's ice," she cried, and I knew it was Pitcairn of whom she spoke; "but try a bit of flattery with him. Not on his looks, for he cares less for them than for the wind that blows, but on his abilities. ”
