"Is this the gentleman as was to come and see me?
Come in, sir.

Come in! My old eyes ain't so sharp as they used to be, but I can see a many things yet." And old Quiller, the fisherman, removed his sou'wester from his snowy head and peered at the visitor from under his hand.
"You don't know me, eh, Quiller ?" Merefleet said.
He was surprised to hear a high voice from the interior of the cottage break in on the old man's hesitating reply.
"He's a sort of walking monkey-puzzle, I guess," said the voice, and a roguish laugh followed the words.
Merefleet looked over old Quiller's shoulder into the little kitchen.

She was standing by the table with her sleeves up to her elbows, making some invalid dish.

A shaft of sunlight slanting through the tiny window fell full upon her as she stood.

It made him think of the searchlight glory of the previous night.