Her hair was fair and gleaming, her cheeks coloured as if a warm light had fallen on them from somewhere.

She was familiar till it occurred to you that she was strange.
"Which way are you going ?" she asked.
"I am going to walk to Dover," I answered.
"And I may come with you ?" I looked at her--intent on divining her in that one glance.

It was of course impossible.

"There will be time for analysis," I thought.
"The roads are free to all," I said.

"You are not an American ?" She shook her head.No.She was not an Australian either, she came from none of the British colonies.
"You are not English," I affirmed.