It was dressed in a jacket and trousers so stained with dust and wet as to have no color of their own at all, and a cloth cap of the same appearance.

A bundle tied up in a red handkerchief, and a heavy stick, rested propped against an angle of the recess.
Jack cleared his throat rather loud and stood still, prepared to be admiring the view, in case of necessity; the figure turned an eye over its shoulder, then faced completely round; and it was Frank Guiseley.
Jack for the first instant said nothing at all, but stood transfixed, with his mouth a little open and his eyes staring.

Frank's face was sunburned almost beyond recognition, his hair seemed cut shorter than usual, and the light was behind him.
Then Jack recovered.
"My dear man," he said, "why the--" He seized him by the hands and held him, staring at him.
"Yes; it's me all right," said Frank.

"I was just wondering--" "Come along, instantly....

Damn! I've got to go to a tobacconist's; it's only just here.