'He seemed of that kind that hath something to conceal, and as he walked with her he ever and anon turned his head and gazed behind him, as if he much feared an unwelcome pursuer.
But, faith,' continued he, 'it may have been the man's anxiety only.

Yet did I not like him.' 'Was he older than my sister ?' Roger asked.
'Ay--much older; from a dozen to a score of years older.

A man of some position, maybe, playing an amorous game for the pleasure of the hour.
Who knoweth but that he have a wife already?
Many have done the thing hereabouts of late.' Having paid a visit to the graves of his relatives, the sailor next day went along the straight road which, then a lane, now a highway, conducted to the curious little inland town named by the Havenpool man.

It is unnecessary to describe Oozewood on the South-Avon.

It has a railway at the present day; but thirty years of steam traffic past its precincts have hardly modified its original features.