“Her slim figure in its odd clothes was curiously like that of a boy in a school blazer.”

Huntingtower Janet Raden
 
"Janet was wearing breeches and a long riding-coat covered by a grey oilskin, the buttoned collar of which framed her small face. Her bright hair, dabbled with raindrops, was battened down under an ancient felt hat. She looked, thought Sir Archie, like an adorable boy."
John Macnab
The Crew at the Cabin
Photos
“Gad! She’s a miler.”
 
"He did not think of nymphs and goddesses or of linnets in spring; still less did he plunge into the depths of a subconscious self which he was not aware of possessing. The unromantic epithet which rose to his lips was ‘jolly’." John Macnab
"Wait a moment.  We need more turf," and she disappeared from sight beyond a knoll.  When she returned she was excessively muddy as to hands and garments.

"I slipped in that beastly peat-moss," she explained.  "I never saw
such hags, and there's no turf to be got except with a spade....No, you don't!  Keep off that bridge, please.  It isn't nearly safe yet. I'm going to roll down stones."

Roll down stones she did till she had erected something very much like a cairn at her end, which would have opposed a considerable barrier to the passage of any stag.  Then she announced that she must get clean, and went a few yards down-stream to one of the open shallows, where she proceeded to make a toilet.  She stood with the current flowing almost
to her knees, suffering it to wash the peat from her boots and the skirts of her oilskin and at the same time scrubbing her grimy hands. In the process her hat became loose, dropped into the stream, and was clutched with one hand, while with the other she restrained the efforts of the wind to uncoil her shining curls.
It was while watching the moving waters at their priest-like task that crisis came upon Sir Archie.  In a blinding second he realised with the uttermost certainty that he had found his mate. He had known it before, but now came the flash of supreme conviction......For swelling bosoms and pouting lips and soft curves and languishing eyes Archie had only the most distant regard.  He saluted them respectfully and passed by the other side of the road - they did not belong to his world.  But that slender figure splashing in the tawny eddies made a different appeal.  Most women in such a posture would have looked tousled and flimsy, creatures ill at ease, with their careful allure beaten out of them by weather.  But this girl was an authentic creature of the hills and winds - her young slimness bent tensely against the current, her exquisite head and figure made more fine and delicate by the conflict.  It is a sad commentary on the young man's education, but, while his soul was bubbling with poetry, the epithet which kept recurring to his mind was "clean-run.".......More, far more - he saw in that moment of revelation a comrade who would never fail him, with whom he could keep on all the roads of life.  It was that which all his days he had been confusedly seeking.

"Janet," he shouted against the wind, "will you marry me?"

She made a trumpet of one hand.

"What do you say?" she cried.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes," she turned a laughing face, "of course I will."


John Macnab
The image above is of Pamela Brown, who starred in Powell and Pressburger's I Know Where I'm Going (She was having an affair with Powell at the time). A Buchanesque girl through and through, she was fond of playing wild country girls who liked nothing better than a cruel sea, driving rain, a decent pint and a pack of wolfhounds. If only there were more women like her.