The Frasers were not likely to come my way , and hatred was a good satisfying passion in the lack of all else . I think I rather took a pride in hating them as became my blood . I did not look at the Fraser pew again , but outside , under the elms , we met him , standing in the dappling light and shadow . He looked very handsome and a little sad . I could not help glancing back over my shoulder as Father and I walked to the gate , and I saw him looking after us with that little frown which again made me think something had hurt him . I liked better the smile he had worn in the beech wood , but I had an odd liking for the frown too , and I think I had a foolish longing to go back to him , put up my fingers and smooth it away . `` So Alan Fraser has come home , '' said my father . `` Alan Fraser ? '' I repeated , with a strange , horrible feeling of coldness and chill coming over me like a shadow on a bright day . Alan Fraser , the son of old Malcolm Fraser of Glenellyn ! The son of our enemy ! He had been living since childhood with his dead mother 's people , so much I knew . And this was he ! Something stung and smarted in my eyes . I think the sting and smart might have turned to tears if Father had not been looking down at me . `` Yes . Did n't you see him in his father 's pew ? But I forgot . You are too demure to be looking at the young men in preaching -- or out of it , Isobel . You are a model young woman .
Odd that the men never XXXXX the model young women !
after as at for in like on over to with