"I thought you were going to trample me into the pebbles.

It's almost alarming when one is thinking about a Sunday nap to see a young lady striding along, then suddenly stop, stamp her foot, and say, 'No, never!' Luckily I knew that you were about or I should really have been frightened." "How did you know that I was about ?" Beatrice asked a little defiantly.
It was no business of his to observe her movements.
"In two ways.

Look!" he said, pointing to a patch of white sand.

"That, I think, is your footprint." "Well, what of it ?" said Beatrice, with a little laugh.
"Nothing in particular, except that it is your footprint," he answered.
"Then I happened to meet old Edward, who was loafing along, and he informed me that you and Mr.Davies had gone up the beach; there is his footprint--Mr.Davies's, I mean--but you don't seem to have been very sociable, because here is yours right in the middle of it.

Therefore you must have been walking in Indian file, and a little way back in parallel lines, with quite thirty yards between you." "Why do you take the trouble to observe things so closely ?" she asked in a half amused and half angry tone.
"I don't know--a habit of the legal mind, I suppose.