But she would go on -- Faith Meredith always went on . If she did not her father might have to leave the Glen . At the end of the long lane Faith came to the house -- a big , old-fashioned one with a row of soldierly Lombardies marching past it . On the back veranda Norman Douglas himself was sitting , reading a newspaper . His big dog was beside him . Behind , in the kitchen , where his housekeeper , Mrs. Wilson , was getting supper , there was a clatter of dishes -- an angry clatter , for Norman Douglas had just had a quarrel with Mrs. Wilson , and both were in a very bad temper over it . Consequently , when Faith stepped on the veranda and Norman Douglas lowered his newspaper she found herself looking into the choleric eyes of an irritated man . Norman Douglas was rather a fine-looking personage in his way . He had a sweep of long red beard over his broad chest and a mane of red hair , ungrizzled by the years , on his massive head . His high , white forehead was unwrinkled and his blue eyes could flash still with all the fire of his tempestuous youth . He could be very amiable when he liked , and he could be very terrible . Poor Faith , so anxiously bent on retrieving the situation in regard to the church , had caught him in one of his terrible moods . He did not know who she was and he gazed at her with disfavour . Norman Douglas liked girls of spirit and flame and laughter . At this moment Faith was very pale . She was of the type to which colour means everything . Lacking her crimson cheeks she seemed meek and even insignificant . She looked apologetic and afraid , and the bully in Norman Douglas 's heart stirred . `` Who the dickens are you ? And what do you want here ? ''
he demanded in his great resounding voice , XXXXX a fierce scowl .
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