His feeling was that the man who waited might be left to wait without speculation about his purpose.

Guessing at the possible business of an unknown and distant man is a form of mental exertion very distasteful to any one who has entered into the calm joy of drifting home after sunset.

But Meldon was a man of incurably active mind.

He was deeply interested in the solitary figure on the beach.

The yacht was borne very slowly on, and it became possible at last to distinguish the figure of the waiter more clearly.
"He looks to me," said Meldon a few minutes later, "very like that fellow Callaghan, the Ballymoy House gardener." There was another pause.