The morning was bright and clear; the air was sweet and buoyant; the food was good, the man and the girl were hungry, they both made an excellent meal. And, while they ate and drank, and, between whiles, talked, each, more or less furtively, took stock of the other. Dorothy found that the hazy impression she had formed of the stranger overnight was not in the least bit like him. He was younger than she had thought. She was not much of a judge of men's years; since her experience of them was so extremely limited, it was hardly likely that she would be. In the darkness she had set him down as somewhere in the forties; now, in the bright sunshine, which ages some of us, she supposed him to be somewhere in the early thirties. There was about him an appearance of vigour--the vigour which goes with youth--for which she was unprepared. Then, too, he was so much better-looking than she had taken him to be--perhaps in thinking so she was influenced by the accident that she was dark and he was fair. His eyes were very blue, and very bright; the skin of his face and neck, though slightly tanned, was delicate as any girl's; his hair and beard were flaxen. He was taller, too, than she had imagined--when he stood up she saw that he must be at least six feet; his shoulders were so broad, he held himself so straight, there was about him such a glow of health and strength, that it did her good to look at him. And his attire suited him well; or she thought it did--certainly there could scarcely have been less of it. He wore no cap or coat or waistcoat; his canvas shirt was open at the neck; his grey flannel trousers had as belt a handkerchief of scarlet silk; he was shod with stout brown shoes. It was a costume suited to fine weather out-of-doors; and, free and easy as it was, both it and the wearer pleased the lady's undoubtedly inexperienced eyes. What impression she made on him it was not easy to determine; not impossibly the morning light had brought a surprise also to him. One felt, not only that she puzzled him, but that the puzzle continually grew. In his speech he owned as much. When the dish and the plates were empty he regarded her with a whimsical smile. "It's good to eat when you're hungry." "Yes," she agreed; "it is." "Do you know that it's past eleven o'clock; and that when I'm abroad in this house of mine I make it a rule to have all signs of breakfast cleared away before the clock strikes eight." She began to stammer. "I beg your pardon; I am so sorry; it's all my fault; but I--I did sleep so late. Now I--I won't hinder you any longer; I'll go." She stood up. "I--don't quite know where; I--I don't know this part of the country very well--I am very much obliged for all you've done for me; you--you've been very kind. I have no money; but when I have I'll--I'll pay you for what you've done, if you'll let me know to what address to send." "I think you're very stupid." She crimsoned. "Good-bye." "I also think that you're ill-mannered."