"Go an' look after her," he said. "An' come back to me presently. I'll have forty winks. Nought on earth makes me so dog-tired as laziness." Daniel was gone in a moment, yet, as he strode whence the girl had disappeared, he found time to ask himself what this must mean. He had never looked round after a woman in his life. Women about a place made him uneasy, and acted as a restraint on comfort. He knew nothing whatever concerning them, and was quite content to believe the opinions of John Prout: that, upon the whole, a man might be better single. Yet this woman had interested him from the first moment that he saw her; he had thought of her not seldom since; he had anticipated another meeting with interest that was pleasure. He crossed Wattern Oke, then looked down where Tavy winds beneath the stony side of Fur Tor. A bright blue spot appeared motionless at the brink of the river. Daniel, feeling surprise to think that she had wandered so far, hastened forward and, in a quarter of an hour, stood beside her. She smiled at him. "I knowed you'd come for me," she said. "There was that in your face made me feel it. You was sorry when I went off?" "So I was then." "I rather wanted to see if you would be. It shows friendship. I like men to be friends with me. I often wish I'd been born a man myself--'stead of a woman. I'm such a big maiden, an' awful strong--not but what I look more than a fly beside you. You could pick me up in they gert arms, I reckon?" "I suppose I could for that matter. I carried a pig yesterday--lifted un clean up an' got un on my back; but it took two other chaps to move it. 'Twas Agg and Tapson. 'Here, let me get to his carcase,' I said; an' I lifted it clear into the butcher's cart, while they two was wiping their foreheads!" She nodded with evident approval. Suddenly his slow mind worked backwards. "All the same," he said, "I didn't ought to have mentioned your name in the same breath with a pig. 'Twas a hole in my manners, and I hope you'll overlook it." Sarah Jane laughed. "What a man! Where was you brought up to? Ban't many so civil in these parts." "I was teached to be civil by my mother. But I know nought beyond my business--not like Mister Woodrow. He has grammer-school larning, an' London larning, and reads books that I can't understand a word about." She told him of her own childhood, of her mother, of her few friends. "Girls don't seem to like me," she said. "I hardly know above half-a-dozen of 'em. There's Minnie Taverner to Lydford, and Mary Churchward--nobody much else. Mary's brother's nearly as big as you be. But t'others I used to know, when I went to school, are all married or gone to service now." "Very interesting," said Daniel. "I never had but one sister. She's down to Plymouth--a greengrocer's wife there."