So he dodged the issue and said she was very kind.
He left the big house as soon as he could without giving offense, and started back toward the parsonage.

But the afternoon was so fine and the early summer air so delightful that he changed his mind and, jumping the fence at the foot of Cannon Hill, set off across the fields toward the bluffs and the bay shore.
The sun was low in the west as he entered the grove of pines on the bluff.

The red light between the boughs made brilliant carpet patterns on the thick pine needles and the smell was balsamy and sweet.

Between the tree trunks he caught glimpses of the flats, now partially covered, and they reminded him of his narrow escape and of Nat Hammond, his rescuer.

He had met the captain twice since then, once at the store and again on the main road, and had chatted with him.