Mr.Jan Smith, o' Oxford, they do call un.

'Ee can't go wrong if 'ee do vollow un to the Gap.

Ur's lodgin' up to wold Varmer Moore's, an' ur's that vond o' the zay, the vishermen do tell me, as wasn't never any gen'leman like un." I tossed off my ginger-beer, jumped on to my machine, and followed the retreating brown back of Mr.John Smith, of Oxford--surely a most non-committing name--round sharp corners and over rutty lanes, tire-deep in mud, across the rusty-red moor, till, all at once, at a turn, a gap of stormy sea appeared wedge-shape between two shelving rock-walls.
It was a lonely spot.

Rocks hemmed it in; big breakers walled it.

The sou'-wester roared through the gap.