For Rufus in anger was a veritable mad bull.
"Leave him alone! He's not safe!" was the general advice and warning of his fellows, and none but Adam ever interfered with him.
Just recently, however, Adam had begun to take a somewhat quizzical interest in the welfare of his son.

It had been an established custom ever since his second marriage that Rufus should eat his Sunday dinner at the family table down at The Ship.

Mrs.Peck--Adam's wife was never known by any other title, just as the man's own surname had dropped into such disuse that few so much as knew what it was--had made an especial point of this, and Rufus had never managed to invent any suitable excuse for refusing.

He never remained long after the meal was eaten.

When all the other fisher-lads were walking the cliffs with their own particular lasses, Rufus was wont to trudge back to his hermitage and draw his mantle of solitude about him once more.