A huge man with the frame of a bull rose from behind the sheaf and confronted his young companion.

He had his hat in his hand, and the afternoon sun fell full upon his uncovered head, revealing a rugged, clean-shaven face that had in it a good deal of British strength and a suspicion of gipsy alertness.

To Chesyl's further amazement he did not appear in the least abashed by the encounter.
"I'm sorry I overheard you," he said, with blunt deference.

"I was half-asleep at first.

Afterwards, I didn't like to intrude." Doris's grey eyes looked him up and down for a moment or two in silence, and a flush rose in her tanned face.