She was standing beneath a gnarled, moss-draped old pine by the bluff edge, looking out over the bay.
I stopped, involuntarily.

Then I moved on again, as noiselessly as I could.

But at my first step she turned and saw me.

I raised my hat.
She bowed, coldly, so it seemed to my supersensitive imagination, and I replaced the hat and continued my walk.

I thought I heard the bushes near which she stood rustle as if she had moved, but I did not look back.
Then, close behind me, I heard her voice.
"Mr.Paine," she said.
I turned.