But perhaps he didn't care!--She looked at him, furtively.

He seemed to be tranquil enough in his abstraction.

Trouble appeared to slide very easily from his broad young shoulders.

Perhaps he was already taking much for granted in her gentleness with him.

And gradually speculation became interest and interest a young girl's innocent curiosity to learn something of a man whose record it seemed almost impossible to reconcile with his personality.
"I was wondering," he said looking up to encounter her clear eyes, "whose house that is over there ?" "Beverly Plank's shooting-box; Black Fells," she replied nodding toward the vast pile of blackish rocks against the sky, upon which sprawled a heavy stone house infested with chimneys.
"Plank?
Oh yes." He smiled to remember the battering blows rained upon the ramparts of society by the master of Black Fells.
But the smile faded; and, glancing at him, the girl was surprised to see the subtle change in his face--the white worn look, then the old listless apathy which, all at once to her, hinted of something graver than preoccupation.
"Are we near the sea ?" he asked.
"Very near.