And it is not at all his affair. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. ’ ‘You are perfectly correct,’ agreed Gerald at once. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. Old saltwater was right.
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