He wore a flannel collar of unfamiliar shape, and his clothes, although they were neat enough, were of a pattern and cut obviously designed to afford the maximum of ease and comfort with the minimum regard to appearance.

He wore, too, very thick boots, and his hands gave one the impression that they were seldom gloved.

His voice was pleasant, and he had the easy self-confidence of a person sure of himself in the world.

She put him down as a colonial--perhaps an American--but his rank in life mystified her.
"This seems the queerest stretch of country," he went on; "long spits of sand jutting right out into the sea, dikes and creeks--miles and miles of them.

Now, I wonder, is it low tide or high?
Low, I should think, because of the sea-shine on the sand there." She glanced out of the window.
"The tide," she told him, "is almost at its lowest." "You live in this neighbourhood, perhaps ?" he enquired.
"I do," she assented.
"Sort of country one might get very fond of," he ventured.
She glanced at him from the depths of her grey eyes.
"Do you think so ?" she rejoined coldly.