Toyner had no uniform, nor had he mastered the philosophy that underlies this instinct for playing a part; he had an idea that the whole mind and soul of him should be in conscientious accord with all that he did.

It was this ideal that made his fall certain.
He had no notion that the girl had not seen him.

Before she got out, when she put her hand to tether the boat, she felt his hand gently taking the rope from her and fell back with a cry of fear.
In her wearied state she could have sobbed with disappointment.

How much had he discovered?
If he knew nothing more than merely that she had returned with the boat, how could it be possible to elude him and come again the next night?
She thought of her father, and her heart was full of pity; she thought that her own plans were baffled, and she was enraged.

Both sentiments fused into keener hatred of Toyner; but she remembered--yes, even then she remembered quite clearly and distinctly--that if the worst came to the worst and she could save her father in no other way, she had one weapon in reserve, one in which she had perfect faith.
It was for this reason that she sat still for a minute in the boat, looking up at Toyner, trying to pry into his attitude toward her.