She was busy over this when the promised escort joined her.
The remnants of his forsaken Quakerism hung around him; his coat was buff, his hat straight in the brim, his manner prim, and when he spoke it was in the speech of his people.

His complexion was very light, hair, eyebrows and lashes, and the down on his chin--almost flaxen; his face was browned by exposure to the weather, but so well formed that Susannah found him very good to look upon, the features pointed and delicate, but not without strength.
"Thou wilt walk as far as thy home with me ?" he asked.
He held Smith's huge umbrella, but he did not hold it with the same strength, nor did he show the same skill in keeping it against the wind.
He spoke as they walked.

"Thou hast walked a long way.

Art weary ?" "Yes--no--I don't know." What did it matter whether she was tired or not?
Baffled curiosity was exciting her.

"You are a stranger here.