"Mary hated Willie Murray because he aince telt her that she was a silly woman to think that she cud wear a number fower shoe on a number acht foot." We laughed together, and then I said: "Dauvit, why did you never marry? You like women I fancy." My remark made him thoughtful. "Man," he said, "I've often speered the same question o' mysel. As a young man I was gye fond o' the lassies, but . . . I dinna ken!" and he broke off suddenly and took up a boot. "Thae soles are just paper noo-a-days," he growled. I refused to let him run away from the subject. "Had you a sweetheart?" I asked. He laughed boisterously to hide his confusion. "Dozens o' them!" he cried. "Then why didn't you marry one of them?" He shook his head. "Dominie, that's the question." He stared at the grate for a while. "There was Maggie Adams, a bonny lassie she was. Man, I mind when I took her to Kirriemair Market . . ." He sighed. "Aye, man, dominie, I liked Maggie mair than ony o' the others." "Did she love someone else?" I asked softly. Dauvit took some time to reply. "No, man, Maggie wanted me." "Then the fault lay on your side? You didn't love her!" Dauvit brought his hand down on the board. "Goad, man, but I did!" I could not understand. "Man, on the road hame frae Kirrie Market I was to speer if she wud marry me . . . but I didna." We smoked silently for a long minute. "Ye see," he went on slowly, "Maggie was a bonny lassie and I liked to kiss and cuddle her, but kissin' and cuddlin' are a very sma' part o' marriage, dominie. There was something in Maggie that I was aye lookin' for, but cud never find. Aye, I tried to find it in other lassies, but I never fund it." "What was it you wanted to find, Dauvit?" Dauvit paused. "Ye micht call it a soul," he said. "Oh, aye," he went on, "Maggie was a bonny lassie wi' a heart o' gold, but she hadna a soul. Wud ye like to ken what stoppit me speerin' her that nicht as we cam through Zoar? Man, I said to mysel: When we come to the toll bar I'll tak Maggie in my arms and say: 'Maggie, I want ye, lassie!'" He had to light his pipe here. "Weelaweel, we got to the toll bar and I said: 'Maggie, we'll sit doon on the bank for a while.' So we sat doon, and I was just tryin' to screw up my courage when she pointed to the settin' sun. 'I'd like a dress like that, only bonnier,' she said. Man, dominie, I looked at that sunset wi' its gold and purple . . . and syne I kent that Maggie was nae wife for me. I kent that she had nae soul." After a time I remarked: "And so, Dauvit, you are a bachelor because you were a poet!" He busied himself with the paper sole.