The girl looked up as he came suddenly upon her, but his eyes were already away and fixed upon the horizon before she turned. Observing that he was not regarding her, she put up her hands again and continued to scan the remote sea-line where a thin trail of dark smoke told of a steamer, itself apparently invisible. Barron took his glasses from their case, and seeing that the girl made no movement of departure, acted deliberately, and presently began to watch a fleet of brown sails and black hulls putting forth from the little harbor below. Then, without looking at her or taking his eyes from the glasses, he spoke. "Would you kindly tell me what those small vessels are below there just setting out to sea?" he asked. The girl started, looked round, and, realizing that he had addressed her, made answer: "They'm Mouzle [Footnote: _Mouzle_--Mousehole.] luggers, sir." "Luggers, are they? Thank you. And where are they sailing to? Do you know?" "Away down-long, south'ard o' the Scillies mostly, arter mackerl. Theer's a power o' mackerl bein' catched just now--thousands an' thousands--but some o' they booats be laskin'--that's just fishin' off shore." "Ah, a busy time for the fishermen." "Iss, 'tis." "Thank you. Good-morning." "Good-marnin', sir." He started as though to continue his walk along the cliffs beyond the plateau and the gorse; then he stopped suddenly, actuated, as it seemed, by a chance thought, and turned back to the girl. She was looking out to sea again. "By the way," he said, unconcernedly, and with no suggestion that anything in particular was responsible for his politeness. "I see you are on the lookout there for something. You may have my glass a moment, if you like, before I go on. They bring the ships very close." The girl flushed with shy pleasure and seemed a little uncertain what to answer. Barron, meanwhile, showed no trace of a smile, but looked bored if anything, and, with a serious face, handed her the glass, then walked a little way off. He was grave and courteous, but made no attempt at friendship. He had noticed when Joan smiled that her teeth were fine, and that her full face, though sweet enough, was a shade too plump. "Thank 'e kindly, sir," she said, taking the glass. "You see theer's a gert ship passin' down Channel, an'--an' my Joe's aboard 'er, an' they'm bound for furrin' paarts, an' I promised as I'd come to this here horny-winky [Footnote: _Horny-winky_--Lonely. Fit place for horny-winks.] plaace to get a last sight o' the vessel if I could." He made no answer, and, after a pause, she spoke again. "I caan't see naught, but that's my fault, p'raps, not bein' used to sich things." "Let me try and find the ship," he said, taking the glass, which he had put out of focus purposely. Then, while scanning the horizon where he had noted the smoke-trail, he spoke, his head turned from her. "Who's Joe, if I may ask? Your brother, I daresay?" "No, sir; Joe'm my sweetheart."