"Well, Mr. George," said the landlord as soon as he saw him, "a sight of you's guid for sair een. It's o'er lang since you've been doon amang the fells." But George did not want to converse with the innkeeper, or to explain how it was that he did not visit Vavasor Hall. The innkeeper, no doubt, knew all about it,--knew that the grandfather had quarrelled with his grandson, and knew the reason why; but George, if he suspected such knowledge, did not choose to refer to it. So he simply grunted something in reply, and getting himself in before a spark of fire which hardly was burning in a public room with a sandy floor, begged that the little sitting-room up-stairs might be got ready for him. There he passed the evening in solitude, giving no encouragement to the landlord, who, nevertheless, looked him up three or four times,--till at last George said that his head ached, and that he would wish to be alone. "He was always one of them cankery chiels as never have a kindly word for man nor beast," said the landlord. "Seems as though that raw slash in his face had gone right through into his heart." After that George was left alone, and sat thinking whether it would not be better to ask Alice for two thousand pounds at once,--so as to save him from the disagreeable necessity of a second borrowing before their marriage. He was very uneasy in his mind. 
George rejected the landlord's friendly greeting, merely grunting in reply. He passed the evening in a little sitting-room in solitude, giving no encouragement to the landlord, who looked in three or four times, till at last George said that he wished to be alone.
"He was always one of them cankery chiels as never have a kindly word," said the landlord. "Seems as though that raw slash in his face had gone right through into his heart."
After that George was left alone, and sat thinking whether it would be better to ask Alice for two thousand pounds at once, so as to save him from the disagreeable necessity of a second borrowing before their marriage.
He was very uneasy. 