She looked around her. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air. His glance came up again and met hers. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. The evenings were dulcet and soft. Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea. ’ ‘Get going, then,’ Trodger told his men.
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