He told himself it wasn't of the smallest consequence, didn't matter a fig, yet continued to cudgel his memory.
And, all the while, the sound of deliberate footsteps crunching over the dry rattling shingle, nearer and nearer, contributed to increase his inward perturbation.
The footsteps halted close behind him--while for a sensible length of time a shadow lay across him shutting off the genial warmth--and started again, passing to the left, as the intruder traversed the crown of the ridge a few paces from where Damaris was seated, and pursued his way down to the river-shore on the other side.
"At last--I thank you!" Tom broke out impatiently.
He felt incomprehensibly nervous; and angry with himself for so feeling.
"Commend me to our friend for taking his time about things, and incidentally wasting ours--yours and mine, I mean! What on earth did he want?
He certainly treated us to a sufficiently comprehensive inspection.
Well, I hope he was satisfied.

By the same token, have you any conception who the fellow is ?" Damaris shook her head.

She, too, appeared perturbed.

Her eyebrows were drawn into a little frown and her expression was perplexed to the point of child-like distress.
"Not any," she answered simply.

"Some one staying at Faircloth's Inn possibly.